Skin Deep
by The Rhapsodian
Summary: Set right after Saw6: Hoffman's cover has been blown, he's on the run and there's only one person he can trust... Following the demise of Erickson's team, the FBI sends in a new agent, and he'll need to be shown around town.
1. Chapter 1 New Blood

_Here we are : this is my first fan fic on this website. This chapter only introduces two of the main characters, Hoffman should arrive later, and more will happen, should this story continue. Hope you enjoy it. Please R&R otherwise I'll just find a hole to crawl in, forget the light of day and stop writing…_

_Disclaimer : I do not own any of the Saw characters, blah blah blah…_

**Chapter One – New Blood**

Special Agent Julian Marcos caught his reflection in one of the commissioner's frames awards. He noticed a straind of his hair was out of place, and carefully put it back into place. When he looked back at the commissioner, he realised that he was loking at him over the file and had seen his gesture. Obviously, he was not impressed.

« So, agent Marcos… How much do you know about the Jigsaw case ? »

« I know he's a dangerous whackjob your guys haven't been able to catch yet. »

« Catch ? Ooookay, and how exactly would you go about catching a dead guy ? Have you even read the case file ? »

« I know enough about the case to know that if it was really closed, I wouldn't be here. »

The commissioner looked at the Fed wondering if he was joking. When he was quite sure it wasn't the case, he stood up and looked at Marcos straight in the eyes.

« Don't get too cocky here, Agent Marcos. The previous team your Bureau sent was also very sure they would be the ones to end this. As a results, they're all dead. »

« Is that a threat, sir ?

« What ? No ! How old are you, twelve ?

Marco ignored the remark, and decided to move on.

« I will need a partner. » he said. « Someone from your department, who knows the case in and out, preferably even who has followed it from the beginning. Do you have that ? »

The commissioner let out a tired sigh.

« Yes, Agent Marcos, I have that ». He suddenly grinned. « In fact I know exactly who you need. Follow me, please. »

Marcos followed the chief cop through a few corridors. Every time they came accross another cop, he was stared at. Some stared with curiosity, some with disdain, some even with… pity ? No, couldn't be pity, surely not, he was imagining things…

They arrived at an empty office. The name on the door had been scraped off, but you still could read the outline where it had been. Marcos tried to decipher : H… O… F…, but was interrupted by the comissioner.

« This office should do for you both, I trust you'll be confortable… » he said while heading towards the desk and seizing the phone. « Send Engstrom up here, now. », he said sharply and then put the phone down.

« Who's Engstrom ? »

« Your new partner. Been on the case from day one, sharp, smart… Left the department a while ago, works with Vice for now, but should be quick to get back on the saddle. »

« If he left the department, why d'you choose him to be my partner ? »

« Did you listen ? I said « been on the case from day one » ! Engstrom knows this case probably better than I do… besides, I don't have many people left in the Homicide department, and none with her knowledge of the case. »

« Sorry, did you say _her_ ? »

« You wanted to see me, sir ? » said a voice.

Marcos turned around. Standing in the doorway was one of the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Tall, athletic, nice pert breasts, short black hair, green eyes… and skin the colour of fresh cream. She was dressed quite simply, in black denims and jacket, but the deep blue t-shirt she wore underneath was so tight it looked like it could have been painted on. Marcos made a huge effort not to lick his lips.

« Hello Sophia. I wanted to introduce you to Special Agent Marcos, from the FBI. He'll be taking over the Jigsaw case from now on. Agent Marcos, this is detective Sophia Engstrom.»

Engstrom shook the agent's hand quite absent-mindedly, her eyes fixed on the commissioner's.

« Yeah, hi. The answer's still no, sir. »

« Oh come on, Sophia… »

« No means no, sir. »

Marcos was confused : « Excuse me, detective, but what is your problem, exactly ? »

« My problem ? ». Engstrom looked at the commissioner with a look that said « is he for real ? », to which he replied with an expression meaning « don't ask ».

« My problem, as you say, is that, one : every cop that even glances at the case ends up dead, two : most of us consider that Jigsaw is only doing what we want to do but can't, and three… she looked at the commissioner … I still consider Jigsaw did me a favour, and you know it, sir. »

« To this I will give you another problem, detective : I'm the one giving orders here, and you are as of right now officially re-assigned to the Jigsaw case. »

Engstrom's jaw almost hit the floor. « You can't do that ! I could be considered a liability, and you know it ! »

« I also know that deep down, you will take it as a challenge, and won't be able to resist the thrill of the chase, so I will take my chances. On that, I will let you two get to know each other. »

« Sir ! » exclaimed Engstrom.

« Bye, Sophia… » said the commissioner, who then left the office. Engstrom wondered for a second why no-one had put him in a Jigsaw trap so far. She then turned to face the fed. God, were they all built from the same blueprint ? He looked as tall and athletic as Strahm was, even his hair had the same cut, though a darker shade. Darker skin too, and she could have sworn his eyes were black.

« So… », Marcos started, « …you consider that Jigsaw did you a favour. How so ? »

« Mind your own business. » she replied sharply. Marcos realised that this partnership was not going to be easy.

« That's exactly what I'm doing. Jigsaw is my business, and so is everything that concerns him. So answer my question : how did he do you a favor ? »

« Actually, agent Marcos, that kind of information is not relevant to the case, as it would not lead to an arrest. So, no, I will not answer, and no, you can't get me for obstruction. »

Marcos considered the woman for a second. She could see in her eyes that she had the determination only few women have. She was hot too. He had been scolded a few times for trying to « get close » to some female colleagues from the Bureau. But this one was not from the Bureau, was she ? Pretty, a great body… and the agressive type. Kinky…

« You sure seem to like the word no, detective. »

« I cherish it. Well, since it seems I have no choice, I suppose you'll want me… »

_I already do…_

« … to go over the case files with you ?

_Damn._ « Yes, certainly… »


	2. Chapter 2 Jane

_**Hi everyone. Well here is chapter two, where we meet a new character. Her story will be told in parallel with the adventures of Marcos & Engstrom. This gets a bit graphic, don't read if you have issues with torture… but then, if that is the case, what the hell are you doing in this part of the website ? Please, please, please R&R !!**_

_**Disclaimer : I do not own Saw and it's a bloody shame (pun intended).**_

**Chapter Two – Jane**

I woke up with my head feeling as if it had been encased in concrete… and too tightly at that. My eyelids felt heavy, refusing to open. A part of me wanted to go back to sleep… but the pain in my neck kept me from doing so. Slowly, my brain registered that I wasn't in my bed. I hated that : waking up without my man by my side, without his smell and away from his strong arms. I slowly realised, still with my eyes closed, that I was in a chair. Seemed large, and quite hard. Where was I ? I couldn't remember going home after leaving work… Did I get drunk ? Yeah, must have done… I went out for a few drinks and got… well hammered, by the looks of it. Did I even get home ? I don't remember owning a chair like that. But then again, I couldn't remember much right now, not even what day of the week. Maybe I was even late for work. I forced my eyes open…

And immediately wished I hadn't.

This wasn't home… it looked like a cellar… concrete walls, a neon light… a metal door about ten feet away, looked strong. Nowhere I knew. Then I noticed three things that really sent my heart racing. One : a TV in the corner with a digital timer on top of it, indicating two minutes. Two : a pipe maze on my right resembling one of those kids toys, where you have to get a ring arountd the pipes without touching them. Three : the large electric wire connecting the maze with the metallic implement on my left forearm… I cried out at the sight of it : it looked like one long tube, covering every inch from my elbow to my hand, which was curled up inside.. By reflex, I tried to shake it of, but something inside cut slightly into my skin when I moved. I cried out at the sudden pain... I couldn't see it, but I could feel a drop of blood trickling inside...

The TV came on, and my heart missed a beat. On the screen, that awful puppet had appeared. Its ugly head slowly turned towards me… Okay Janey, keep your cool and try to listen…

_Hello, Jane. I want to play a game. In your career, you've always prided yourself in helping people, while always thinking that victims always got what they deserved for not standing up for themselves. It was this abused wife's fault for not reporting her husband, or this murder victim's for fighting back his murderer. Yet, after your personnal tragedy, you spent the best of your time wallowing in self-pity. That make you a hyppocrite in my book, wasting away a precious life that has been denied to so many of the people you were supposed to help. _

My « personnal tragedy » ? You don't know me, you self-righteous bastard ! I have been through hell, how dare you judge me ?

_Well, today, we will put your « fighting back » theory to the test. On your left arm is a sleeve-like device lined on the inside with five blades. If you struggle, you will find out just how sharp these blades are, …_

No shit…

… _but you will only be able to remove it with the key attached to the pipe maze on your right._

I checked. Sure enough, the key was attached, no, welded onto a metal ring hanging on a rubber sleeve at the end of the maze that was attached to the wall. No way I could just tear it off, that ring looks solid…

_Before you think that you just need to bring the device to the key, I will have you notice that it is attached to the floor with a rather strong chain…_

What ? I checked the device… he was right, the chain was there, it wouldn't allow me much moving space. The son of a bitch had thought of everything.

_You will have two minutes to bring the key to the other end of the maze and then be able to use it to free yourself. I should mention, through the maze runs an electric current linked to your « sleeve ». Every time the ring touches a pipe, the blades will dig deeper into your flesh. If you do not retrieve the key in time, the device will remove itself automatically… after cutting your arm off. The door to this cellar will then close permanently, and you will be left to bleed to death. We shall now see if yous can so easily keep your calm and « fight back » the pain. Live or die, Jane. Make your choice._

The timer started… Okay, Janey, don't panic, just do what the scary puppet said…

**01:55** I stood up and kicked away the chair to get more leg room. Staightaway I went to get the key but was stopped when the chain yanked at my « sleeve ». I felt the blades grazing my skin again, hell, they were sharp… To reach the key, I had to stretch both my arms, resulting in the one in the left one pressing against the blades. I winced. I reached out for the key : I could only seize it between the tips of my index and middle finger. It felt heavy… I started to lead the ring through the maze, but my hand was shaking and my grip uneasy, it touched the pipe after maybe ten inches. Immediately, I felt the blades. I screamed, almost dropped the key, but forced myself to hold on. If I dropped it, the electric signal would become continuous, I would be too blinded by the pain to get it back and my arm would soon drop off. No way… he would not get me, no…

**01:35** I started my progression again, trying to ignore the weight of the sleeve now digging into an open wound. I managed to lead the ring through several curves before it hit the pipes again. It hurt even more than before. I screamed again, but this time I stayed rigid. I breathed rapidly a few times to regain my composure, but I could feel the panic starting to creep in… I lead the ring again, this time managing to get it through two thirds of the way. I was sweating buckets, my hair was sticking to my face.

**00:50 **I dropped the ring again. This time I screamed in rage. I kept going, only to drop it again a few inches later. The pain is so intense, I am starting to panic… My hand is shaking so much, my whole body is starting to tremble.

**00:35** Only a few inches left… God, it hurts so much, please make it stop… but I can make it, I'm sure I can make it…

**00:30** I dropped it again ! I started losing it this time and started moving faster, hitting the pipes again a couple of times before reaching the end, roaring with rage and pain… But I refused to aknowledge the pain, I had to keep going…

**00:15** I got it ! The key was off the maze ! I could hardly believe it ! I started laughing like a mad woman…

**00:10** Where the hell was the fucking keyhole ? There, on the side of the sleeve. I fumbled with the key for what seemed like forever, until I finally get it in. In a trance, I turn the key, and the accursed sleeve finally comes off, with that atrocious feeling when the blades come out of my wounds…

**00:05** I bolted for the door and even then managed to fumble with the handle… Cursing, I finally got it open and dove…

**00:00** The door closed behind me with a loud « clack ». I was on the floor of a large corridor… I looked at my arm… the gashes were so deep… I could see my veins, my muscles… Oh, please tell me that wasn't bone…

But I had done it… I had survived ! I wanted to start laughing and just lay there… But my brain kicked back in again. I was bleeding. Badly. I had maybe three hours before I bled out, two before I passed out… and if I passed out…

I was wearing a shirt with a sleeveless top underneath, both soaked with sweat. I took my shirt off and tore off a piece to make a tourniquet. I wrapped the rest over my wounds. I got to my feet and started running, frantically, desperately looking for an exit. But all I seemed to find was more corridors. I kept running nonetheless.

Then, round a corner, I saw him… and my blood froze.

Standing about thirty feet ahead, looking straight at me.

The man whose body I had known so many times and who knew mine by heart.

The man who I suddenly knew had put me there.

The man I loved.

_**Guess who ? Next, we check on the progress of agents Marcos an Engstrom, but it's not the kind of progress Marcos was hoping for.. Let me know what you think.**_


	3. Chapter 3 Digging

_**Here is chapter three, I'm hoping I'm doing a good job of keeping you on your toes… I do not own SAW…**_

**Chapter Three - Digging**

They spent the best part of the day going over the different murders, traps, and crime scene reports. Marcos was the type of guy who thought of himself as so smart, that he just neede a single glance at a case file to find the ultimate clue to solve the whole thing. Problem was, this case was already solved… He was already starting to feel the frustration…

« So… why are we doing this ? » he asked.

Engstrom raised her head. « Excuse me ? »

« Why are we doing this ? I mean, we know who is responsible for the murders, him and his crackhead girlfriend are in the morgue, what more can we do ?

If Engstrom's jaw could have dropped lower, it would have hit the floor…

« Are you sure you're an FBI _agent_ ? »

Marcos was a bit taken aback by the question. He frowned, but couldn't answer, it was so ridiculous…

« How long since you graduated from Quantico ? », Engstrom continued.

« … well , to be honest, this is my first murder case, if that's what you're getting at. I was in the International Fraud department, before. »

« Your first murder case ?!? and they give you Jigsaw ?!? »

« …yeah ? so ? »

« Pfff… either you're really good, or you pissed someone off real bad. I'm thinking the latter… »

« No ! I wanted to be transferred to Homicides… »

« Did you request this particular case ? »

« No, but I guess they must trust me to close it. »

« Without knowing the details ? You must be one hell of a bloodhound… »

Marcos looked at her defiantly. « Maybe I am ! », he said. Right now, he found her a lot less attractive.

Engstrom sighed and carried on. « We are going through these files so that you can get familiar with the case. A good profile can only be established with a perfect knowledge of all the facts. And the man in the morgue has a name : John Kramer, and he never actually killed anybody. »

« Are you shitting me ? », Marcos exclaimed. Engstrom ignored him.

« What he does is putting people in elaborate traps to give them a chance to make something out of their lives, should they survive. Kind of a shock therapy to appreciate what you're given. It's sad, but the most we could have charged him with would have been assault, kidnapping and second-degree murder. And the « crackhead », who was clean at the time of her death, mind you, was not his girlfriend. Her name is Amanda Young, and we refer to her as an apprentice. The person we are looking for today is the other apprentice, Mark Hoffman, former head of the homicide department. »

« A cop ? You _are_ kidding me ! »

« Believe me, I wish I were. He's killed three FBI agents among others, I guess that's pretty much why you're here. Your bosses want revenge. Now, him, we can get for murder one. But right now, we are having trouble getting our hands on the guy. And that is why we are going over the files : getting to know the case details will help you profile it. »

Marcos did not like her tone. She was talking to him like he had something to learn from her. Her ! she was only a cop, after all…

« Erickson's team knew it by heart, » he spat, « and they all ended up dead ! And how would _you_ know so much about profiling anyway, I wonder ? »

Engstrom crossed her arms and leaned back on her chair, looking intensely at Marcos with a slight smirk accross her lips. After a short silence, she spoke :

« You're the second of three children. All your life was lived in the shadows of you older sibling, a school athlete, and the youngest one, fragile and pampered by your parents. In school, you tried to get good grades to get your parents' attention, but when that didn't work, you started to rebel, and your grades dropped. That is, only until you saw some FBI-related movie, where the hero saves the day, gets the girl and the honors, etc… From that, you decided to become an FBI agent and worked your ass off to enter the Academy. You graduated by the skin of your teeth, your biggest problems being your attitude and your failure to properly assess danger. However, you have a good eye, good number comprehension and memory, hence the Frad assignement. But you crave more, you hope more than anything in the world that one day, you'll solve a big case single-handedly, and then be showered with honors. You think Jigsaw might be just that case, and that's why you accepted without asking any questions. Satisfied ? »

Marcos was astonished. Satisfied ? He certainly was not ! Right now, he was no longer attracted to her. At all. In fact, he was fighting the urge to punch her.

« How the fuck would you know all that ! » he growled.

« Temper, temper, agent Marcos. I used to be a profiler myself, after all. »

_**Close that mouth, you'll catch flies. PLEEEEAAAASE R&R !!**_


	4. Chapter 4 Jane's Fog

_**So I think all of you had guessed who was the mystery man at the end of Chapter Two. I just felt that Marcos and Engstrom would not be enough to create a story worth reading. They represent the outsider's POV, and since most of the SAW movies also have an insider's POV somewhere… well, that's when Jane comes in. Come on, do you really think a good-looking guy like Hoffman would stay single long?**_

_**A special thank you to Yimix, my only reviewer so far. It's nice to know SOMEONE likes my work. It makes it all worth it. Still, I would appreciate a few more from other readers… Are there any?**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own SAW or any of its characters. However, Agent Julian Marcos, Detective Sophia Engstrom and Jane are mine, SO DON'T TOUCH!!**_

**Chapter Four – Jane's Fog**

I cried out, but not in fear. In rage, in anguish, and exhaustion. Uncontrollably I sank to my knees and started sobbing loudly, almost like a child. At that point I didn't even feel the pain in my arm anymore. It had been replaced by a far greater one: I could actually _feel_ my heart shattering. Why had he done this to me? I thought he loved me! Why would he torture me, _mutilate_ me that way? Why?

I couldn't stop sobbing. I was curled up around my injured arm, my vision blurred by the tears. But through all that, I heard him. One step, then another. He was walking towards me. Instinctively, I jerked my valid hand forward and shouted "Stop! Don't you dare!".

The steps stopped. I tried to regain control of myself. I rose slowly. I forced myself to look straight into his eyes with all the anger I could muster. He remained emotionless, which just fueled my anger. I staggered towards him. He didn't move. I maintained eye contact until I was only a few inches from him. There, I saw the pain behind his eyes. He did love me.

My body softened, as often when he was near. Part of me just wanted to melt into his arms, and cry against his strong chest until he took me in his arms and carried me away from this dreadful place. It was the very same part that cupped his cheek in my valid hand. Still crying, I leaned forward and kissed him. First just a little peck on his lips, but it instinctively deepened, I could never control my actions when he was with me. He kissed me back, with passion, and time stopped. I automatically pressed my hips against him, and he wrapped his arms around my waist. I lost myself for a few seconds in that kiss. He held me tighter, and a flash of pain from my mutilated arm brought me and my rage back to reality.

I pulled back from the embrace and punched him. Hard. Twice. Once on each side of his face. He did not stop me, didn't even try to defend himself. I was crying again. I wanted to ask "Why?", but all that came out of my mouth was a roaring "SON OF A BITCH!!".

Had I been in my normal state, I probably would have pushed the fight further. I pack a mean punch and I fight dirty, so basically I often win. I find it a great way to release tension. But my head started spinning. _Blood loss_, my brain shouted, and the physical effort I had just made did nothing to help. I fainted.

Mark caught me in his arms and scooped me up. I tried to speak, but even that was difficult. I felt so damn _tired_…

"Mark… I…"

"Shhh, don't try to talk, Janey, I'm here, I'll take care of you… "

"… need a doctor… blood loss…"

"Don't worry, I had already figured that one out for myself. It just happened we have one on hand."

Through the fog inside my head, a few bizarre fragments of information managed to get through. _"We"? Who the fuck is « we »? And did he just say there actually was a doctor nearby? Now you've done it, Janey, you've lost your marbles and right now you are hallucinating in a mental hospital somewhere_… which was a quite good explanation of the recent events.

I was vaguely aware that Mark had carried me into another room and laid me on something hard. He stroked my forehead. I was trying to stay conscious, but the fog was still there_. Don't pass out, just don't pass out, don't fucking pass fucking out…_

I felt a hand – Mark's, maybe? – cupping my neck, lifting my head slightly. Something smooth against my lips… a glass or a cup… then a cold liquid… Water! Sweet, wonderful water! I parted my lips and drank greedily, to the last drop. I hadn't realized until then that my throat was drier than a sandbox. When I was done, my head was guided back onto whatever I was lying on. A table? Did Mark manage to get me to a hospital in such a short time? Or did I lose track of time? _Careful, Janey, that's the first thing you lose when going insane…_

Still my head kept spinning. There was someone else in the room. But the few times I managed to open my eyes, my vision remained blurred. I could hear voices though, Mark's first… and someone else's…

"You think you can fix her?"

"I had a couple of pack of O neg ready just in case… I think I can save her arm, but she'll need physical therapy after that, the tendons are sectioned… you might as well know, she probably won't regain full mobility of her hand…"

"…but she will live, won't she?"

"If we can keep infection at bay, she should be okay, yes."

"You hear that, Janey? You're gonna be just fine."

I didn't reply, my mouth just wouldn't obey.

"Jane, can you hear me? My name is Lawrence, I'm a doctor. You have lost a lot of blood…"

No shit?

"… and you need surgery on your left arm."

What is this, National State The Obvious Day? And there was I thinking that these mere scratches would just heal themselves! Silly me!

"I'm going to inject you with a mild anesthetic, so that I can operate. This is going to sting a little…"

Something was not right with this last sentence, but I was too woozy to figure it out. I could feel my wounds, they were gaping open, and I could feel the cool air inside my arm. It was a funny feeling… the kind of funny I never wanted to feel again. Did he say something about my hand? I tried to move my fingers… nothing. Or did they move without me feeling them? God, I wish this fog would go away…

_Why, Mark, why? I love you, your sister was my best friend, we've know each other for so long… _

I felt something stinging my valid arm. The anesthetic, no doubt, although I felt so tired, the good doctor could only have waited a few more minutes. I felt myself almost immediately drifting away. That was nice.

"… gonna be okay, Janey…", I heard Mark say through the fog. I could smell his cologne. I felt at peace. I welcomed the anesthetic to my weary brain…

… which suddenly woke up. I remembered what had bugged me with what the doctor said: "_so that I can operate_". No, no, no… Normally, a doctor would say "_so that WE can operate_", meaning him and his team of surgeons, nurses and God knows what else. But he said "_I_"… Oh dear God…He was going to operate alone!

_I'm not in a hospital! Where the fuck… ****_

My mind dove into oblivion before I could scream…

_**Well, well, it seems we have an extra guest… **_

_**Please R&R!**_


	5. Chapter 5 Truth or Dare

_**Hi everyone. Well, I got a couple of reviewers, and another person apparently favorited this story. So it seems I've got at least three fans. Just for you guys, the story will continue. Well, also because I need to get it out of my system. Special thanks to my fans. This chapter tells us more about Engstrom's point of view, and about Marcos' shallowness. Some might wonder how he managed to get his job. Well, patience, my dears, all will be revealed… just not yet.**_

_**Disclaimer: Do not own Saw, do own my characters.**_

**Chapter Five – Truth or Dare**

Marcos blinked a couple of times before actually registering the information Engstrom had just dumped on him.

"Excuse me?"

"What? Didn't the commissioner tell you?"

"That you're a fed? No, he said you worked in Vice..."

"Was a fed, Marcos, was. I quit years ago."

"Why?"

"It doesn't matter. What does is that you seem to think that, because I'm "just a cop", I'm somewhat beneath you. I hoped this piece of information might change your mind."

Marcos was stunned, but didn't give up. "No, sorry, but it does matter! If I am to work with you, I need to know I can trust, and how could I do that if you just shut me off?"

Engstrom looked at him and pondered for a second. "You know, this is probably the first intelligent thing you've said since I've met you. Alright, what do you wanna know?"

"Which unit were you in? And why did you leave?"

Engstrom sighed, slightly annoyed. "Marcos, do you pay attention sometimes? I said I was a profiler! I was at the BAU. I left because… well, there's only so much horror one can take in… You know, for every one killer we caught, there's still like ten out there who are still committing atrocities. I just felt… useless. So I left."

"But now you're working the Jigsaw case?"

"… yeah, well, a bit against my will. That's irony for you: I quit the Bureau to get away from serial killers, and just then Jigsaw comes along. Just my luck…"

"If you didn't want to deal with killers anymore, why are you here?"

"Well what else was I gonna do? Open a bakery? I thought that normal everyday cops had it easier, so I applied and got accepted at Homicide here. I even worked on the Jigsaw case for a while. About six months ago I asked to be transferred, and ended up in Vice."

"Why Vice?"

"Why not?... okay, because one of their guys retired. Now, are you quite finished, because we still have some work to do."

"So you're telling me you'd rather catch prostitutes than murderers?"

"I'd rather stay alive. And, if possible, sane. Now shall we…?"

But Marcos was not about to give up, he had just thought of something: "I'm not done, and I believe this could be important. You worked in Homicide before Vice, you said? And on the Jigsaw case?"

Engstrom sighed, wishing she'd shut her mouth earlier. "Yes to both."

"So you knew Hoffman?"

_Damn_, she thought. _Exactly the question I wished he'd never ask. The idiot is smarter than I thought…_

"Yes."

"Knew him well?"

"I warn you, if this turns into an interrogation, I'm outta here."

"So that's a yes."

"No, just a warning. The 'I warn you' bit was kind of a clue. He was my superior at the time, before I got promoted. We did chat a couple of times, mostly work-related… And, before you ask: no, he never mentioned the fact that he put people into lethal traps at the week-end. I was not one of his drinking buddies."

"He drank?"

"For a while, yeah. He seemed to have stopped. Guess we now know why."

"So who are these 'drinking buddies', and where can I find them?"

"Detective Matthews and Officer Rigg. You'll find them at the morgue. But they're a bit too busy to talk right now..."

"Busy doing what?"

"Being dead."

"Oh…"

"Yeah."

"Was that in the file?"

"Yep."

"Ah… well… in that case…" _find something smart to say, find something smart to say_… "I would like to inspect Hoffman's office, then." _Yes, really professional_.

"The regular one, you mean?"

"Huh? Oh, yes, yes the regular one."

"Knock yourself out, you're in it."

Marcos felt like he had been slapped. "WHAT?"

"In fact, the last time I saw Hoffman, he was sitting in that very chair", she said, pointing at the one Marcos was sitting in.

Marcos jumped from his chair as if it had just bit him.

"Oh, grow up, will you?" Engstrom said impatiently, "it's not contagious."

"Really? Wanna count the groupies?"

"… point taken, but nonetheless… Look, we've already processed this office. Hoffman is a smart man, he didn't leave any clues behind."

"How about his home?"

"Aw, gee, why didn't I think about that one?", she scorned. She stood up, went to the desk and picked up a file which she just then dumped in front of Marcos. "Here's the report. Stop thinking that cops are stupid for a sec. Just a few prints and hair. All of them Hoffman's. No evil machinery, no pictures with targets drawn on them, no confession letter, not even a fridge magnet saying 'I'm a serial killer and proud of it'. I told you, he's a smart man, and he's had a good teacher."

"So how do you propose we catch him, if he is so intelligent?"

Engstrom narrowed her eyes. "Funny. I thought that was what _you_ were here for."

_Shit. I walked right into that one._ "Well, excuse me, but so far, you haven't been much help!", he spat.

"Apart from teaching you your job, you mean? Oh, well, if you think you can deal with this case on your own, I'll just tell the commissioner that. Good luck finding another partner though…" She started to walk towards the door.

Marcos growled. Good riddance, he thought. "Fine, but before you go, could you please tell…" he rummaged though one of the files… "Detective Fisk to come and see me?"

"What am I, your secretary? And why do you want Fisk for anyway?"

"Well, if you quit, I need another partner, like you said. Says here he's been on the case for a while. How's that?" _You weren't expecting that one, were you?_, he thought, smirking.

Engstrom chuckled. _Good God, h_e is _twelve._ "Fisk is… unavailable."

Marcos frowned. "How so?"

"He… kinda had a nervous breakdown. Try to put yourself in his place: as if the pressure of working on a case like Jigsaw's wasn't enough, all of his teammates are dead, and then he finds out he's been a close collaborator of the guy responsible for their deaths. Hell, we're all on edge because of that. No-one saw it coming."

His face fell. "So… you're telling me…"

"That's right, Agent Marcos. You're looking at the last surviving member of the team."

_**Okay, so that one is a bit short, but I've got to keep you on your toes, don't I? Oh, and BleachedSoul013, if you're still wondering why Hoffman tries to save Jane, remember: the point of putting the victims in a trap is NOT to kill them. Except of course if said trap was built by a certain little brunette, but it's not the case, as you'll find out for sure in the next chapter. Stay tuned… and review…**_


	6. Chapter 6 Jane's WakeUp Call

_**Jane returns, although she probably wishes she wouldn't. Time to face reality, and it SUCKS! Now I know you will probably be confused after some events in this chapter, but the hardcore Saw fans might just make some links… Let me know in your reviews. Oh, and we have a couple of extra guests…**_

_**For the disclaimer… oh hell, just read the previous chapters…**_

**Chapter Six – Jane's Wake-Up Call**

_I'm chained to the bed again… I can't move… can't scream… so scared… the room smells so bad… the fat man come towards me… He talks, but I can't hear him… He's taking his clothes off… No, please, I don't want to go through this again… I want to scream, but nothing comes out, it's maddening… He comes closer, moves onto the bed… No, not again… I start sobbing… Suddenly I feel a hand on my left arm. I look to the side… Angelina is there, holding my wrist. She's pale, he eyes are white… and her throat is still cut… just a big gaping gash spilling blood. Oh Angie…_

"_It's okay, Janey, you're not thinking straight…", she says… and then her hand begins to burn into my skin…_

I woke up with a start. Did I scream? Maybe, my throat felt sore and dry… it was all a dream… Thank God…

A sharp pain shot suddenly through my arm. It fully woke me up. Where was I? I tried to sit up… now both my arms felt sore…

I was lying on a metal table, in a tiled room with shelves and open drawers full of medical equipment. But the care of the sick clearly wasn't its first purpose, what with the metal sliding door and no windows.

Something was off, even without the strangeness of the place. The colors, the edges of the objects around, the sharpness of details… I lifted my right hand to rub my eyes and felt a flash of pain in my elbow pit. I looked: a tiny needle was protruding out the fold, linked to a tube. I followed it to a clear-looking drip. Suddenly all the memories of prior events came back to the surface and my head shot towards my left forearm.

Here it was, limp and sore, and adorned with five perfectly straight transverse scars, blue and red, stitched with thick black thread.

I cried out in horror. It had not been a dream…

The metal door slid open, I swiftly looked towards it. Smiling, a tall, blue-eyed Errol Flynn-lookalike entered and slowly walked towards me. Was he limping?

"Hello, Jane. I'm Lawrence. How are you feeling today?"

I recognized the voice. The good doctor. So I was still a prisoner.

"Trapped", I answered.

He nodded. "You've sustained considerable injuries, but I was able to re-attach most of your tendons. Providing your wounds do not get infected, you are now out of danger."

"Really? I doubt that, somehow", I replied. I started scanning the room for any potential weapons. But no such luck: no tools, no scalpels, no two-by-fours. Several glass vials and jugs were on the shelf. If I broke one, I could use the shards to wound any opponent, especially a limping one, before I found anything better…

But the good doctor seemed to follow my trail of thought. "Before you try anything stupid, I should mention you are in no physical state to get into a fight, and… well, look…" He pointed at my feet. They were handcuffed to the table legs. I had not noticed that…

"Look, I know you've been through a lot…" he started.

"You know? Oh really! Wanna compare scars?", I spat.

To my astonishment, he… smirked? "Okay." He took a step back, and pulled up his pant leg, revealing a metallic prosthetic foot.

I gawked. "How…"

"I was tested just like you. I survived, just like you. But it cost me… just like you."

I started to feel the tears welling up. Everything felt so unreal!

"Jane, I know you're feeling lost right now, but believe me, you will soon understand why we do what we do."

I wasn't listening anymore. And I think he realized that, because he stopped talking. The tears started to spill silently. He started to check the drip, went to a sink I hadn't noticed before to wash his hands, then came back to my arm to examine it. I saw him smile slightly, so it must have been good news.

"Could you please try to make a fist for me?"

I obeyed… or at least tried to, because my hand was not responding. At all. That freaked me out. I try to push really hard through my arm to make it move, but that just resulted in more pain.

"Easy, easy", the good doctor said. "Don't try too hard. Can you fold your arm?"

I tried that. It felt sore, like one big bruise, but my arm did fold.

"Well done. Jane, your nerves and tendons have been badly damaged, as I've said before. It will heal in time, and, with a bit of physical therapy, you most certainly will regain some movement in your hand."

I looked at him. "'Some'…?"

He slowly nodded. "Yes… I'm afraid you will never again have full mobility in that hand."

I slowly took that in… My hand and lower arm… lost. And suddenly realized that… I didn't care? _Don't be stupid, Janey, of course you care, you're just in shock. When it finally sinks in, you're going to cry buckets…_

"Jane? Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, doc. Hand gone. I got that. But tell me one thing: why are you keeping me prisoner if I passed your damn test?"

"Prisoner? Wha…"

I pointed at my cuffed ankles.

"Oh, that. Actually, it's more for my security than anything else."

"Your security? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Weren't you looking for something to attack me with five minutes ago?"

"… touché. So… what happens now?"

"Well, you seem to be healing nicely. You should be alright to leave soon."

"What? You're actually letting me go?"

"Not right away. Someone wishes to speak to you."

My heart sank. "And by someone, I guess you mean my homicidal ex-lover…"

"You mean Mark? No, I wasn't referring to him…"

I stared blankly at him for several seconds.

"Oh dear.", he said. "You thought…"

"That he was the Jigsaw Killer and you were his helpful Igor-typed sidekick? Yeah, I kinda did!"

"If I was you, I wouldn't use the word 'killer' around here too much. We do not kill, we give people a chance…"

"To get killed, yeah! And wait a second… 'we'? How many members to your little maniac club?"

"I really, really suggest you drop the attitude. Some… 'club members' may not appreciate it. Including me."

He almost looked threatening. _Shut it_. I felt really overcome with everything that was happening. I curled up in fetal position, cradling my bad arm. I was already thinking about work. I couldn't go back like that… I would forever be labeled "Jigsaw victim". No way I would be a "victim" ever again…

Just then, someone knocked on the metal door.

I say, that's good timing! Lawrence said, and went to open the door. I couldn't see whoever it was but from the other side I heard a feminine voice:

"She awake yet?

"Yes, but I should warn you, she's a bit disorientated and upset."

Then another voice, a man's this time, deep, older. "That is understandable. Thank you, doctor."

Lawrence stepped aside. The visitors came in.

First, a short pretty brunette, with piercing eyes, dressed like a punk wannabe. She looked intensively at me, but didn't say a word. Then the other one came in. An older man, with grey curly hair… and his eyes… like cold steel.

He slowly walked towards me. "Hello, Jane." He stopped only a few inches away from my face. It really felt too close for comfort.

"I understand you are feeling quite helpless right now. My name is John…"

_**Please stop screaming! Yes, I know, I said this story was happening after Saw VI, and it is! I know it seems as I'm throwing continuity out the window, but I swear it will all make sense… eventually… Oh well, let me know your outrage by reviewing… I can take it… I think… did I just wake up in a trap?**_


	7. Chapter 7 Survivors

_**It's chapter seven already, and a few people seem to enjoy the story, some even put it in their favorites (you know who you are), so to all of you a frikkin' big THANK YOU! And thanks also to my faithful reviewer Yimix, who never failed me! **_

_**So, on with the show, and we start to catch up with the movie action. Now I'm not too big on descriptions, especially with locations that have already been seen in the films, but I'm pretty sure everyone with be able to picture it without me needing to go on and on about it. Now the beginning gets a bit steamy, it would seem than Marcos is getting some action. What? Did you think this was rated M just because of the blood? HA!**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Saw nor the character Mark Hoffman (but God, I wish I did own the actor…)**_

**Chapter Seven – Survivors**

Marcos was in heaven. His medal was shining on his nightstand, and Sophia Engstrom was writhing and panting under him. He kept on pounding into her with hardly any consideration. His goal was elsewhere anyway.

"You like this, don't you bitch?", he rasped.

"Ooooh yeah, harder! Please don't stop!"

"Not too bad for the new kid, right?"

"Unnh, you're the best, Julian! I should never have underestimated you! "

"Damn right! Oh you're so fucking hot!"

"Oh Julian! I'm coming! I'm…"

… _the thrill of the fight, rising up to the challenge of our rival…_

Marcos startled awake. _What the hell_, he briefly thought, _where's the girl?_ He realized it had all (unfortunately) been just a dream, and his blaring ringtone had waked him up. Why did I put the blasting thing on so loud anyway? He flipped his phone open and the tune died.

"Marcos." _This better be good_, he thought, _that was a damn good dream_…

"Agent Marcos? You need to come and see this…"

He listened carefully, suddenly fully awake. He jolted down the address and thanked the officer. Right after he called Engstrom.

"Yeah, what?" She sounded annoyed and out of breath. _I know the feeling, girl…_

"Engstrom? It's Marcos. We've got another Jigsaw scene. It's at an old abandoned zoo or something. A few survivors this time, apparently… We've got to get there!"

"Er… can't it wait? I'm kind of in the middle of something right now…"

"Are you fucking kidding me? It's Jigsaw, for God's sake! What could you possibly be doing that's more important than that?"

"My boyfriend!"

…Wow… He had not been expecting that one… at all…"Erm… er… well… it's just that…" Was he actually babbling?

"Marcos? You there? I was kidding, you know…"

"Oh! Were You? I knew that…" _stupidstupidstupid…_

She sighed loudly. "Look, you said the old zoo, right? I'll be there in about twenty minutes. See you then." And she hung up.

Twenty minutes. Okay, that should be enough to get dressed find the place and hopefully get rid of that hard-on he still had. Cold shower might do it…

Thirty-five minutes later, a freshly-smelling and hard-on free Marcos arrived at the latest Jigsaw crime scene. The place was swarming with uniforms and flashing lights. He was feeling rather impatient about this one. All new and never seen before! Better than any file report, this was his chance! He started to hum _Eye Of The Tiger_…

…then saw Engstrom, leaning against the door frame, talking to a cop. She turned and saw him… Lord, if her eyes had been guns… Marcos checked the medical team was still there, as he might need them later on, and walk towards the unknowing object of his wet affection.

"Agent Marcos, so good of you to finally join us. I hope you've had a pleasant journey dragging your ass over here."

"Let's just get on with it, shall we, I've got a psycho to catch." he said, trying to avoid his embarrassment with bravado and went into the building.

Engstrom rolled her eyes and followed. They were led to a room that looked like an office at first sight. The door has a small broken window. There was a desk with several monitors and the walls were lined with pictures. This looked all too familiar to Engstrom. Jigsaw had had many different lairs over time, and they all had a similar layout. But there was a strange difference this time, and it was the pool of blood on the floor… without a body floating in it.

"What are the monitors for?" asked Marcos.

The cop next to him arched an eyebrow. "They're, um, for _monitoring_ the trap rooms, sir."

_I knew that_. "Engstrom, why don't do… your thing, while I get some more info."

Engstrom frowned. "My thing?"

"Yeah. You know. You're a profiler… profile!"

Engstrom's eyes went wide. She sighed deeply, then started to pace the room.

"So how many survivors have we got?"

"Six, sir. But they've been locked in here for a few days, so they're still in a pretty bad shape."

"Out of how many?"

"Fourteen, sir."

Marcos and Engstrom looked at each other from across the room. Fourteen? That was the most victims for one game… so far. How worse was it gonna get?

"Whose test was is?"

"William Easton, health insurance executive. Most of the other victims were his employees."

"Where is he now?"

_Oh jeez_, thought Engstrom, _sooo not the right question…_

"In the last room, sir, the one this office looks directly into. We're still picking him up."

"You're what?"

"Well, sir, it's pretty bad. The vic was pumped up full of hydrofluoric acid, there are… molten pieces everywhere. And the forensics who can keep their stomach contents in have to be careful not to injure themselves, so it's gonna be a while before we get everything to the lab."

_Did he say… acid?_ Marcos' own stomach was having a hard time right now… He went to Engstrom so as to change the subject, even slightly. "So, Eagle-Eye, what have you got?"

"The urge to beat you up the next time you call me Eagle-Eye. This is a control room, Hoffman was here, and I'd bet my salary the blood's his."

_Wow. She__ is__ good._ "Really? How d'you figure that one out?"

_Oh Lord, give me strength…_ "He was controlling the game from here. Easton didn't make it which, by the way, should have been your first question, and so he could not have been here."

"But maybe someone else got in, and Hoffman killed him?"

Angstrom glared at him. "Then I'm pretty sure there would be a body in the middle of all this blood, but all I see is blood. It's clear, however, that Hoffman was interrupted, otherwise the victims would have been released ages ago. Now we know Hoffman is extremely strong and quick-witted, so the only way to get him would be by surprise. I'm thinking he was…" She went to the chair in front of the desk and sat on it, her back to the door. "…sitting right here. Then someone come in. She pointed to the door without looking. And somehow immobilizes Hoffman where he sits."

"Why do you think he was immobilized?"

"The restraints, Marcos, somehow I don't think he put them on himself nor willingly. But how was he immobilized…?"

She suddenly rose then crouched to look under the chair. She smiled, then gestured Marcos towards her. He crouched next to her and she pointed at something under the chair. Marcos identified it straight away.

"Remote-controlled electric charger." Engstrom looked at him. "I used to build remote-controlled toy cars with my father, when I was a kid. I'm not completely useless, you know."

Engstrom did not reply. Instead she rose and called to the nearest forensic officer. "Did you find any remote control lying around?"

"No, ma'am, but we did find something else… much more interesting." And he gestured them to come with him.

Marcos and Engstrom looked at each other, intrigued, and then followed. The officer showed them, in the opposite corner of the room. There, on the floor, lied an intricate-looking metallic device. Engstrom recognized i tat once and her blood froze.

"What the heck is this?" asked Marcos.

"We called it a reverse bear trap. It fits around your head and inside your mouth. You have to retrieve the key to free yourself before the timer runs out. If you don't, it rips your jaws apart. It was used before on Amanda Young. Not the same one though, the first one is in evidence. "

Marcos pondered this for a second. _Jaws ripped. Ouch_. "So you think this was used on Hoffman too?"

But Engstrom was already back on her trail of thought. "He was electrocuted, and while unconscious, bound and… trapped. See the blood smudge on the chair? I'm thinking he broke his own hand to free himself, probably using the trap itself to do that. God, that must have hurt."

"Yeah, payback's a bitch.", Marcos chuckled, but when he saw he was the only one laughing, he put his serious face back on.

Engstrom looked around, and frowned. "Something's off."

"What?"

"Well, do you see a key anywhere?"

Marcos looked around, found nothing. He asked the forensics if they had found anything like a key, they hadn't. He turned back to Engstrom: "Wasn't there a couple of cases in which the traps were inescapable?"

"Yes, the ones designed by Amanda Young, but she's dead, so she's off the hook. Another one was designed by Hoffman himself, to kill his sister's murderer. I'm pretty sure he's off the hook too. Now look: the door window had bars in it. Hoffman must have used that to jam the trap, then… somehow… got out."

"I can help with that.", one of the older forensics said. He picked the trap. "See the blood on the side? That bit goes inside the mouth, and do you see the tissue fragments on it? Now I will need confirmation from the lab, but at first glance, I'd say it's from the inside cheek lining. I'm thinking Detective Hoffman had to tear through his cheek to get free before the trap snapped completely open."

Both Marcos and Engstrom winced at the idea. Engstrom swallowed before she spoke: "Well, that would explain the huge quantity of blood. Head wounds tend to bleed profusely."

"So let's sum it up: he's got a broken hand, his face is torn open, he's lost a lot of blood and is in a lot of pain. He's in not state to go far. Hey," he called to a uniform, "call all the local hospitals for trauma victims fitting that description." He turned to Engstrom. "So someone is after Hoffman, and is not playing by the Jigsaw rules. What do you think? A copycat or an avenger?"

Engstrom was mildly surprised. Marcos was actually acting professionally. "Too early to say. Maybe once all the evidence has gone through the lab…"

"Okay, I'm gonna grab a coffee and meet you back at the station."

_Aaaand he's back_, she thought as Marco took off. "Guess I'll be interviewing the survivors then?" she called out, but Marcos was already out of hearing range.

##############

Two days later, Marcos was in a rage. The zoo victims' interrogations had been useless: all they had witnessed was their own misery. Hoffman had not been to any hospital. He had wanted to publish a modified picture of Hoffman in the local paper, but Engstrom had strongly discouraged him, saying that it could blow out of proportion and anyone with a scratch on his face would be reported. They'd never see the end of it.

Nothing was going the way he expected.

And the dreams hadn't stopped. Every morning now, he was waking up with a boner, and had to take a cold shower before going to the station. He had to face it: Engstrom, with her pale skin, athletic firm body, deep green eyes, boobs that just begged to be fondled, even as annoying and patronizing and high-and-mighty as she was, had gotten into his blood. He was hoping, once Hoffman behind bars, that he could take her out for dinner sometimes. And show her a good time afterwards.

He was lost in the thoughts of that afterwards when he got out of his car in his motel's parking lot that evening. Had he been paying attention, he might have noticed the black-clad figure coming straight for him, before it tapped his shoulder. But all he noticed as he turned around was an ugly pig mask then a sting in his neck before he lost consciousness….

_**This is the longest chapter so far, it just kept writing itself and wouldn't stop! But anyway, as you can guess by the last paragraph, we're getting into the action now. So the chapters will get longer and longer… I hope that's good news…**_

_**So, Marcos has "Eye Of The Tiger" for a ringtone. Is he just an eighties rock fan (like me) or just deluded? Is he really that obnoxious? And should Engstrom cut him some slack? Let me know what you think…**_

_**Oh, and PLEASE REVIEW! Every time you review "Skin Deep", a Saw victim survives… don't you want them to survive? No? Oh, okay… guess I'll get on with the gore fest then…**_

_**CHERISH YOUR LIFE, PEOPLE, DAMNIT!**_


	8. Chapter 8 Jane's Story

_**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the SAW characters, I do however own Special Agent Julian Marcos, Detective Sophia Engstrom and Jane. I do love saying that!**_

_**« Another turning point; a fork stuck in the road.**_

_**Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go.**_

_**So make the best of this test and don't ask why.**_

_**It's not a question but a lesson learned in time.**_

_**It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.  
I hope you had the time of your life. »**_

_**Green Day, Time Of Your Life**_

**Chapter Eight - Jane's Story**

John's gaze was intense. Like he could see right through my face and into my soul. I felt almost naked in front of him. I was already expecting what he said next, but I still shivered when he said it:

"I am the man you call Jigsaw."

I tried not to let my fear show, but I think he knew anyway. His voice was like a knife trailing on an ice block.

"These are… some of my associates: Amanda, and doctor Lawrence Gordon, but I believe you already know that."

The girl gave a little wave when her name was spoken, her eyes still fixed on me. John carried on:

"Detective Hoffman, whom you already know, had to leave a few hours ago. I trust that Dr Gordon has already started to explain to you what we do. You see, so many people…"

"… are ungrateful for the life they have, I know. You are quite the celebrity out there, you know, and so are your methods. Somehow you think I deserved to be tested and that's why I'm here and…"

"_I_ think? For you _don't_?"

Fear or no fear, right then, I could have slapped him.

"You know nothing about me! How dare you!"

The girl called Amanda chuckled, and I could have sworn that John was grinning slightly. "I know much more about you than you give me credit for. Now, why don't you tell me about Angelina?"

Now, that question took me by surprise. "How the fuck does Angie have anything to do with this?"

"Well, based on what I know, it seems her death was a life-changing event for two people: her brother… and you. And now, both of you have crossed my path. Coincidence? Hardly. Very few events in life are."

I was really getting scared now. I had always been what shrinks refer professionally as a "control freak", and I had never been so far from control. The situation was completely escaping me, and this man, with his cold voice and his cold eyes, had me in the palm of his hand. I caught myself wondering if the pipe-maze room was that bad…

"Angie was my best friend... ever since high school. She was one of the prettiest girls there, but she still liked to hang out with me, the weird kid. She was the first one to call me Janey, when I told her I hated my first name. She's always been there for me. We helped each other prepare for our exams, we were always at each other's birthdays… I think we might have gotten our first hangover together… Even when I moved away, we remained close. The fact that her brother and I were an item helped. Until she met Seth… Why the fuck am I telling you this? You probably already know all that, for God's sake! Isn't Mark working for you? Was testing me his idea?"

John arched a brow. "Didn't the doctor warn you about showing _me_ attitude?"

"Or what? You'll kill me? How many tests do I get before you say 'uncle'?"

"You've got a big mouth for someone in your position, you know that?" said Amanda, who was now walking towards me and definitely smirking. That's when I noticed, without really registering, the tiny scars on each side of her mouth.

Any other time or place, I would have given that short-ass punk pixie a piece of my mind… but she was right. I realized that after looking at my feet again. Incapacitated, injured, angry, still weak… and surrounded. I was indeed in no position to get into a scrap, even a verbal one. So I shut my mouth.

John nodded at Amanda, who was obviously acting as his bodyguard, and she took a step back. "I should point out, Jane, that I do not like to hurt women, nor violence in general. However, Amanda has no such scruples."

Amanda's grin just went wider. _I've got a right hook with your name on it, bitch, if you don't stop smiling stupidly, _I thought._ Oh, yeah, handcuffed… shit._

"The reason I ask you those questions," John said, "is to help you understand why you are here. But if you do not want to carry on your story, I shall. We will see then if I do not know you."

Unconsciously, I brought my knees up against my chest in a nearly fetal position. I suddenly felt very cold.

"You had a good life: a satisfying career, someone who loved you… things you took for granted. Until your best friend was savagely murdered. You didn't see that coming, did you? And you believe you should have done… For after all, wasn't reading people part of your job? You had known from the start Seth was trouble… you feel you could have saved her…"

My tears started to well up. _No_, I thought, _don't let them see you cry…_

"The day after the funeral, you went on a twenty-four hours drinking rampage. Alone. You went to several bars, until they all closed. And somehow, you ended up at the Alexander Motel…"

"Shut up…"

"… where you staggered to a room…"

"Shut up!"

"… passed out on a bed…"

"SHUT UP!"

"… only to wake up handcuffed, and with a man on top of you, raping you."

"FUCK YOU!" The tears flowed… I couldn't hold them anymore…

Amanda took another step forward, menacingly. "I thought I told you to watch it!", she spat, but John held her back, unfazed.

_It's okay, Janey, you're not thinking straight…_

"The last shred of belief you had in justice was torn away from you at your aggressor's trial. What was his defense plea exactly?

I swallowed hard, and I tried to ignore him… I so did not want to play his little mind games anymore…

… but Punk-Bitch was not having this. "Answer the fucking question!"

I shot her an angry look, with all the rage I had in me. "You motherfucking little cunt! You want a piece of me, do you? Do you want…*"

But I suddenly felt light-headed, I thought for a second I was going to faint again, but Lawrence was by my side in a split second. "Easy, Jane, easy… try to lie down, you're still weak… you shouldn't be making any efforts, you know…"

He helped me lie down. That helped a little. Lawrence told me to be still and try to breathe evenly, and I did. I closed my eyes to concentrate on breathing. After a while, I opened them: Amanda's face was inches from mine…

"Not feeling so tough, now, are you?" she said…

I couldn't help it: I head butted her…

She jerked backwards and almost hit John in the process, but instead he caught her in his arms. She wasn't bleeding, I must have missed her nose… _damn._

Lawrence held me down immediately. "Now, what did I say about not making efforts?"

Sure enough, I was feeling dizzy again. But I still noticed something was off: John was checking Amanda's face… but she made no move towards me. She did not look afraid, though. I could have bet money her next move would have been to go for my throat. But no. I heard John whisper "That will be enough" to her. She nodded… and went to the door. Just before she left the room, she looked at me. Her eyes were unreadable, except for one thing: she was not angry. That was freaky…

John turned back to me. "Jane, if do not behave yourself, I'm going to have to restrain you even further. Do I need to do that?"

I didn't reply, I was too dizzy for that… I needed a minute…

"What was his plea, Jane? How did Ivan get away with rape?"he continued.

_Ivan? You guys are on a first name basis, now?_ "You know the answer to that already, what more do you want?"

"I want you to answer me."

I inhaled deeply. "His lawyer argued that in my inebriated state combined with my intense grief could not permit me to make a clear identification. And the jury bought that."

John nodded. "And ever since, you've only been a shadow of your former self. An empty shell, a walking corpse. The living embodiment of what you despised: a victim."

That hurt… a lot. Probably more than the trap did… but I realized it was true.

"Now do you understand why you were tested? So far, very few people have managed to survive these tests. Most of them, you have met in this room."

I thought about Lawrence and his prosthetic foot. Amanda and her scars. I wondered what marks John bore… had Mark been tested? My mind went back to him… Ever since the trial, our relationship had been… complicated, to say the least. We had never officially broken up, nor had we stopped seeing each other entirely. It had just become rarer, like once a month or so. The passion, the joy of being with each other simply wasn't there anymore, but we just could not put an end to it all. His drinking did not help. But not that I was thinking about it, he had been different for the past few weeks… and I hadn't noticed. Had I been really that wrapped up in my own misery?

"So what?" I said, "You want me to join your little team of survivors?"

"Actually, I was more curious as to what you wanted to do."

I wasn't sure what he meant exactly, so I decided to play dumb. "You're wondering if I'm going to go to the police…"

"Well… are you?"

Was I?

I remember what I had thought earlier: I would be forever branded a Jigsaw victim if I did testify. A Jigsaw _victim_. I could barely stand the thought. Anywhere I would go, all I'd get would be pity looks. I was tempted to keep the thing quiet. But my arm? I wasn't just injured, I was handicapped. How was I supposed to explain that? Oh I woke up this morning and my left arm just ceased functioning?

I turned to Lawrence: "I'm going to need your help…"

He arched a brow, looked at John, then back at me. "How so?"

"I need a cast and a doctor's note…"

Both men were grinning now.

So the official story would be that I fell down some stairs and broke my arm, hence the cast and the scarce use of my left arm in the future. The note would get me a few weeks off work. Lawrence made me a removable cast, one I only had to put on in public. I had to take it off as often as I could, so that the wounds could breathe and heal. He even referred me to a physical therapist. He explained that I didn't have any legal obligation to tell him how my injuries happened, or even give him my real name, and that patient-doctor confidentiality would keep him from telling anyone. Of course, the scars would never disappear, so that meant long sleeve tops for the rest of my life.

The situation was unreal. I felt like I was on the run from the law somehow…

John asked me again what I was going to do next. I hadn't got a clue and I told him. At that point, I just wanted to go home and crash.

"Detective Hoffman will be here in a little while, do you want to wait for him?"

I winced involuntarily. "No, that won't be necessary, I'll go now…"

John pouted in response. "Very well. In that case, Amanda will drive you back home."

"What? Are you kidding me?"

Lawrence caught up. "Jane, you're in no state to be driving, let alone walking. Don't be silly."

I could have argued, especially with someone who had put me in a deadly trap just hours before and was now worried about my well-being. But I was just too tired…

I half expected them to blindfold me before I got into the car, but they didn't. I decided I didn't care, those people obviously did nothing logical…

It was a quiet drive. Amanda kept her eyes on the road and her mouth shut. I kept my head leaning against the window, my body slouched on the seat. I felt both physically and mentally exhausted. When we finally arrived at my apartment building, Amanda turned to me: "Are you gonna be okay?"

I frowned: "You care, now?"

"I was just wondering if I was going to have to carry you to your apartment."

"No, thank you, I think I'll manage" I said with my hand on the car door handle.

"John asked me to be hard on you, you know."

I sat back down. "What?"

"He wanted to see how you would react. And I think he was pleased with your reaction."

"God, your little gang gets sicker and sicker by the minute…"

"Let me ask you this: when was the last time you hit someone who disrespected you? When was the last you _fought back_?"

I stared at her. I couldn't reply. So I just left the car and went home.

_**Please R&R, I live for your reviews.**_

_**So now you know how Jane got into this whole mess. Any questions? Oh, and I'm thinking of re-writing Chapter One, any suggestions?**_

_**Next: let the game begin...**_


	9. Chapter 9 The First Test: The Tool

_**My dear readers, **_

_**Something quite unexpected has happened to me recently. When I created the character of Julian Marcos, my idea was for him to be the annoying guy / comic relief that readers would completely expect to end up in a Jigsaw trap, and deserving it too. However, and to my great surprise, he seems to have become quite popular with said readers. I quote my friend Bleachedsoul013: "he's the unlikely hero". I never, ever, when I started this fanfic, thought that Marcos could become a hero, even an unlikely one. I kinda thought the popular character, if there was one, would be Jane. This apparently happens sometimes to authors: their character takes on a life of their own. And you know what? I am LOVING it! **_

_**I kinda hope that Julian will remain loveable in the future, as the next few chapters will reveal some things about him that are not nice… Don't even think about asking me if he's gonna survive or not, I'm not gonna tell you!**_

_**Please review some more! It makes my day every time!**_

_**Now: Julian Marcos meets his fate… and yes: it IS going to hurt a LOT!**_

_**Plus… heeeeere's HOFFMAN! **_

**Chapter Nine – The First Test: The Tool**

"_What the hell is wrong with you?", snarled Engstrom._

"_Oh, what have I done now?"_

"_Try not done! Why was I alone to interview the zoo survivors? Why did I have to run the whole case through you once again, or even in the first place? Why are you being such a pompous jackass all the time?"_

"_Hey, watch your mouth, Miss Almighty-All-Knowing!"_

"_Or what? You are not my superior, what could you possibly do to me?"_

_He inhaled sharply. "Look here, Sophia…"_

"_I don't remember allowing you to address me by my first name! It's Detective Engstrom to you!_

"_Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, and I'm the pompous one? Are you actually listening to yourself, oh mighty and formidable sleuth?"_

"_Oh, my! You actually used a multisyllabic word! You must be a genius indeed! Can you spell dimwit?"_

"_Why, you…"_

"_Wrong, it starts with a D…"_

"_Couldn't you, JUST FOR ONCE, be nice to me?"_

"_Marcos, what the hell are you doing here? ANSWER ME!"_

Marcos woke up with a start. His vision was blurred at first, so he started rubbing his eyes. It was the first time in a long while that he woke up without a boner after an Engstrom dream, and he was kinda grateful for that… Granted, his mind replaying their latest argument had not really been pleasant. He winced: _our "latest" argument? Sounds like an old married couple… I'm sooo hooked… why is my mattress so hard?_

He jerked up, his vision suddenly clear. He was lying on a concrete floor, in the corner of a windowless room lit by a single bulb on the ceiling…

_Oh, sweetmotherfuckingjesusinhell… this is NOT GOOD…_

The room was quite small, about fifteen feet across, with two doors on adjacent wall. The one on the right had a normal handle and a boarded-up window. Also there seemed to be a working camera just above it. The one on the left was thick, solid-looking with a pivoting built-in handle.

Both were wired to the timer on top of a TV in the middle of the room…

Marcos quickly got to his feet. His pulse accelerated and his breath quickened. He was starting to panic and almost ready to cry. How did he get into this mess in the first place? He did cherish his life… sort of. One thing he was sure of is that he did not want to die! And especially not here nor like this!

He unconsciously started to pace. He rummaged frantically through his pockets, hoping he would have been left something, like Strahm had. Nothing. And Strahm ended up dead anyway… _What am I gonna do? I'm stuck here, in a flippin' Jigsaw trap and…_

_Hold on a sec…_ Marcos' brain kicked in. He checked the room again as well as himself. No chains, no devices, no contraptions, no homemade nail bombs… Nothing. Just two doors and a TV set. And the camera. The camera with the little blinking red light, like a little accusing eye saying _I can see you_…

Marcos screamed with rage towards it: "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME?"

The TV came on.

Marcos' head jerked towards it. Hoffman's scarred face had appeared on the screen. _Bastard doesn't even bother hiding behind a puppet anymore_, he thought. Still, Hoffman's stare was intense. It was as though he was looking directly at Marcos through a glass panel, instead of simply being a recording. He almost missed the puppet…

Marcos had never met Hoffman, just knew though reports and testimonies of his former colleagues (especially female ones, except for Engstrom) that the man was extremely charismatic. And indeed, he couldn't deny it now; even on a tape the guy had presence.

Marcos was shaking by the time Hoffman started to speak…

"_Hello, Julian. I want to play a game. Right now your strongest wish is to catch me and put me behind bars. But is the real reason behind that wish? Is it because you truly believe that what I am doing is wrong, that I am a dangerous person that needs to be stopped? Or is it just because my arrest would make you a hero? Are you looking for justice, or for honors? For your own sake, I sincerely hope it's the former. But in either case, your recklessness puts people in danger. Be assured, your secrets are now out… You know what I am talking about… and today I shall try to teach you the value of human life, and to that purpose you will pass several tests. Hopefully they will open your eyes regarding your actions."_

Marcos blinked. _Secrets? What secr… oh shit. He fucking knows._

"_Right now you are facing your first choice: the door to your right will lead you to your first test. All you have to do is turn the handle. However, behind the door to your left is a tool that will greatly improve your chances of successfully passing the followings tests, but trying to reach it __will__ cause pain. I also must tell you that you only have one minute to make your mind up. After that, the tool will forever be destroyed. So you may proceed painlessly to your first test and most probably fail, or brave the pain and most certainly succeed. Time is short, Julian. Make your choice."_

The TV went off and the timer started.

**01:00** _Okay, so whether you like it or not, you're in deep shit big time now. Breathe, and try to keep your head together…_ Marco may have been reckless, even pompous sometimes (according to Engstrom), but he was no fool. Between "probably failing" and "certainly succeeding", the choice was quickly made… even if Hoffman hadn't offered any guarantee, but then, that was the whole point of the Jigsaw games. He bolted for the door that held his "tool".

**00:55** Marcos seized the pivoting handle… and jerked backwards with a scream.

His whole body tingled. He had been electrocuted. _Of course! He did say there would be pain… It's never as simple as that, is it?_ The door was wired, but he couldn't see how. No electric lines or wires anywhere, apart from the timer's. It had to be from the inside… _Shitshitshit…_

**00:45** Marcos braced himself and seized the handle again. Electricity shot through him and it hurt like hell, but he managed to turn it a little, sending the gears behind the door into motion. However, he couldn't stand the shock for very long, and he had to stop after moving the handle only half an inch.

He cried out, looked at his hand: it burnt… Hoffman hadn't been kidding about the pain… _Sadistic bastard. I bet you're laughing right…_

**00:40** Marcos switched hands and seized the handle again. He clenched his jaw and tried to ignore the pain, but he could have sworn the voltage had increased… Still he managed to turn the handle about an inch further before growling and letting go.

**00:35** How much more did he have to turn it? Two inches, three…? Or did he have to make a full circle? Marco didn't think he had the strength to do that…

**00:30** What if he couldn't? Would going forth without the "tool" be so bad? _Of course it would be bad, you idiot! It's a fucking Jigsaw trap, not Fort Boyard! Just get on with it!_

**00:25 **He took a deep breath and seized the handle again, knowing that time was running out fast. He could feel the skin of his hand sizzle and blister. If he hadn't been busy trying not to bite his own tongue, he would have noticed the smell of burning flesh that started to fill the room.

**00:20** The voltage was higher, he was sure of it now. Every time he touché the handle, he would get a stronger shock. It was becoming harder and harder to hold on… He let go with a long scream of pain and rage.

**00:15** Marcos really wanted to cry now. "YOU FUCKING BASTARD!", he shouted towards the camera. He then saw the timer and how little time he had left. With a growl, he seized the handle with both hands this time, receiving yet another, higher dose of electricity. But he was determined not to let go this time. The handle turned much further than before, due to sheer willpower. Alas, willpower is not always enough…

**00:10** Marcos jerked backwards, and fell to his knees… How much more would it take? How much more could _he_ take? His heart was beating so hard, it felt as it could burst in the next few seconds… Could another shock send him into arrest? He could just go to the other door… But then Hoffman would win… and that was just unacceptable.

**00:05** Marcos seized the handle with both hands again, and felt as if his head was going to explode. He turned, and turned…

**00:04** Marcos was violently shaking all over. He was going to pass out soon…

**00:03** Don't give up, don't give up, don't let the fucking bastard win…

**00:02** The gears behind the door finally fell into place, and the door snapped open.

This time, when Marcos let go of the handle, he was catapulted several feet behind. He landed flat on his back, still shaking like a leaf. He barely managed to put his head to the side before throwing up. He hadn't eaten anything for a while, so all that came out was bile. It left a horrible burning sensation in his throat.

He looked at the timer, stuck on 00:02.

He'd done it. He beat Jigsaw.

He was exhausted. All he wanted to do was sleep. Maybe when he woke up, he would be in his bed and all of this would have been a dream… if Fate was particularly generous, maybe he would have Engstrom by his side…

But moments went by, and he was still lying on the concrete floor. His heart rate was slowly coming back to normal, as well as his breathing. He tried to sit up. His head was spinning… He took a few deep breaths until the room became still again. God, he never wanted to do that again.

Slowly he rose to his feet. The door was finally opened. He almost couldn't believe it. It was actually only ajar, but still. He slowly moved towards it. His feet felt heavy, he had difficulties walking. When he reached the door, he pulled it open a little more, careful not to touch the handle. He checked the other side of the handle: it was wired still. Marcos pulled swiftly at the wire, and it came off easily.

Marcos opened the door completely. Behind it was a small room. Very small in fact. It reminded him of a bank safe. It was dark, no lights anywhere. He felt the side of the door frame, no switch. The only light source was coming from the room he was in.

He entered, still holding the wire. He followed it to where it was connected: a small generator battery on the floor, on the right of the door frame… right next to a large glass jar filled with nails.

The jar was wired too. Marcos easily guessed it was connected to the timer on the other side of the door. A homemade nail bomb. So that's how his "tool" was supposed to be destroyed.

The tool. He had almost forgotten about it.

He scanned the floor in front of him. Nothing apart from the battery and the bomb. Was either of them supposed to be his tool? Was he supposed to take the bomb, maybe? Yeah, blast my way out of here… and my head off in the process, right… Think again…

That's when he heard the breathing.

Behind him, at the other end of the dark room…

He was not alone.

He felt the presence getting closer behind him. In reflex, he did a backwards elbow punch, hitting the person in the stomach. As the shape bent in two, gasping for air, Marcos seized its jacket collar and slammed it face against the wall.

"OUCH! FOR FUCK'S SAKE, MARCOS! "

_**Pfff, this is the chapter that gave me the most trouble to date. **_

_**Designing traps is HARD! I've designing five altogether for this story, and now have the greatest respect for all the imaginative people in the Saw design team.**_

_**So okay, I said Hoffman was in this one, and in fact it's only a recording of him. So? I didn't technically lie… He will be more present in the next chapter though, and things will get a bit… scratch that: a LOT steamy… Like I said: this isn't rated M just because of the blood… Mwuahahaha…**_

_**As usual, let me know what you think…**_


	10. Chapter 10 Jane's Love

"_**Love, I don't like to see so much pain  
So much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away  
I get so tired of working so hard for our survival  
I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive**_

_**And all my instincts, they return  
And the grand facade, so soon will burn  
[…] Oh I want to be that complete  
I want to touch the light, the heat I see in your eyes."**_

_**Peter Gabriel, In Your Eyes**_

_**Yay! I'm getting more and more reviews and more people favoriting my story! You wouldn't believe how happy I am! Really! Every time this gets reviewed, I almost jump with joy! Plus it seems to stimulate my inspiration, hence how quickly this chapter was posted. No, no, it's not blackmail, honestly… can't believe I'm on chapter ten already…**_

_**So… nobody actually guessed who got punched by Marcos? Really? I'm a little disappointed there, guys…**_

_**But for now, as I promised: STEAM!**_

_**Oh and, need I write this? Warning: contains scenes of graphic sexual nature.**_

**Chapter Ten – Jane's Love**

When I entered my apartment, it was already dark outside. Something felt different. I slowly closed the door behind me, wishing I had my gun with me. I went to look in every room, checked every corner, looked at everything object on every piece of furniture… Nothing was out of place. I was the only person there.

_Geez, Jane, paranoid much?_

_Well I have just been kidnapped, you know…_

Still something felt different. But for the life of me, I couldn't say what.

I sat down on the couch, wondering what I was going to do next. I didn't feel like watching TV. I didn't feel like doing anything actually. I mean, what do you do when you come back from Hell? Is everything _actually _supposed to go back to normal? If so, I didn't have a clue as how to proceed.

I pretty much just sat there for like 30 minutes, just lost in thought. Then the doorbell rang.

I pondered for a while answering it or not. I didn't really feel like seeing anyone, especially this late. But then, the person on the other side of the door knocked.

It was a soft knock. Not insistent, almost just like whomever it was was letting me know they were there.

I waited a second more, then got up and went to open the door. There stood the most beautiful pair of blue eyes that roamed the Earth. He was casually dressed, all in denim, which made a change from his usual neat suits. I should have been happy to see him. I should have run into his arms. Instead, I just felt cold.

"Hello, Janey."

"Don't call me that. What the hell do you want?"

"To talk to you."

"Why on earth would I want to talk to you?"

"I didn't say you had to talk to me back. I can be the only one to do all the talking."

"Just go, Mark. Leave me alone."

I moved to close the door, but he quickly blocked it with his arm. "Jane… If you can honestly tell me that you never, not even for a second, wondered why what happened today happened, then I will leave, but not before."

I stared at him. Of course I had wondered why. It had been eating at me for a while, in fact. God, I wished he didn't know me so well. So I let him in. I went back to the couch, let him close the door. I sat down, bringing back my injured, casted arm on my lap.

He walked slowly towards me, then sat on the coffee table.

"Off.", I said.

"Sorry.", he said, and quickly stood up. He took a few steps back, looked for somewhere else to sit. I didn't have any armchairs, I kinda kept my surroundings to a minimum. So he went over to the dining table and took a chair. He brought it closer to the couch and sat again.

He was silent for a few minutes, staring at me. I kept quiet, _really_ not wanting to talk.

"You alright?", he asked.

I glared at him. "Are you actually asking me that?"

"I mean, are you in pain?"

I sighed. "Not right now, the doc's meds are quite efficient. It will probably hurt later though… Why do you care?"

"Oh, Janey, please, don't be like that…"

"Like what? Like the bitch you tried to kill?"

"I did NOT try to kill you."

"Could have fooled me…"

"Will you shut up for a second, please?". I sighed, then signaled for him to continue. "Thank you. Janey… do you remember when we met?" I nodded. How could I forget? I was a senior in high school, I had come to Angie's house to fetch her before going to the movies. I rang the doorbell… which then opened to Michelangelo's David! I started to babble: _"Erm, hi… erm… I'm here to see Angie? Angelina, I mean?"_. He replied a low silken voice: _"She's upstairs, she's getting ready. I'm her brother, Mark. You must be… Jane, is it?"_. Two weeks later, we were officially dating…

Mark continued. "When I met you, you were so full of life… more so than anyone I'd met. You were like a flame! Bright and intense. You seemed ready to take on whatever the world would throw at you. I even remember you saying once that anyone can do anything if they set their mind to it, and that we only make our own obstacles. That when life gets tough, all you have to do is _fight back_." I was really getting sick of my own old motto being thrown back at me today. "And then you were raped… and you were never the same again… the flame was gone you became hollow…" _Yeah, funny how trauma does that to people_, I thought, but did not say out loud because of the lump slowly forming in my throat. "It seemed that you had died on the same day as Angie… I couldn't take that…"

I took a deep breath. "So you thought you'd try and kill me off? Was it really that painful to watch?", I snarled.

"For fuck's sake, Janey, I did not try to kill you! How many times do I have to tell you this? I was trying to help you!"

"Help me? I could have died today!"

"You were already _DEAD_!"

The world fell apart. He might as well have stabbed me though the heart, I could feel the ice cold blade piercing my chest… I stood up.

"Get out.", I spat.

"No."

"I said get out! Now!", I shouted, pain changing to rage.

"No." He got to his feet, closed the distance between us… and, before I could do anything to stop him, wrapped his arms around me.

He held me tight, not seeming to care that I was pummeling his chest with my valid arm. God, I wanted to cry. But no. No way would he see me cry. I lifted my head and met his gaze. These gorgeous blue eyes of his… I could have drowned in them… and the way he looked at me… the way he was holding me… with force, and yet still softly…

Time stopped.

Memory faded.

Our lips crashed.

It was violent, needy, yet tender. Everything I loved and wanted. He slid one hand down my waist and the other at the back of my neck, holding me almost like a rag doll. I melted into the kiss. I needed this. I wrapped my valid arm around his waist, trying to pull him even closer if that was possible. He then lifted me and pushed me against the nearest wall. I hooked my legs around him, not breaking the kiss. I could feel him growing hard inside his jeans, as well as myself getting wet.

Still lifting me, he helped me out of my top. Somehow my cast disappeared as well. My arm was still bandaged underneath, so it wasn't a problem. I started to rip his shirt of, as I had no patience with buttons. When we were both topless, he took one of my breasts into his mouth while roughly fondling the other. I moaned. God that felt good… In all honesty, it had been a while since we had last enjoyed foreplay like this… Sex had become rare and mechanical in the past few months. So much catching up to do… I could feel his tongue flicking over my nipple inside his mouth. He then gently bit it, which made me gasp loudly. He moved his lips underneath my breast, to a very sensitive spot he knew well. He massaged it with his lips, and I groaned…

He then decided to carry me into the bedroom. There, he carefully put me onto the bed before tugging at my jeans. In an instant, they were on the floor, and he was on top of me, our mouths joined again. His hands were everywhere, caressing every square inch of my skin. I knotted my fingers in his hair, unwilling to ever let him go. He almost tore of my panties, then slid two fingers in my drenched folds… I moaned again. His thumb immediately found my clit, and started massaging it. I lost myself in the delicious sensation…

When his lips finally left mine, leaving them swollen, they travelled down my neck, leaving moist kisses in their wake. My whole body trembled under his touch, it was almost difficult to breathe. He moved down my collarbone, between my breasts along my stomach… and suddenly, his hand was replaced by his mouth between my legs.

His tongue felt like fire. I started to thrust towards him to get the most of it, knowing it wouldn't be long before I came. I knotted my fingers through his hair. He was sucking, nibbling, biting… it drove me wild! With one of his arms, he held me fast by my hips, while the other fondled my breasts, his fingers playing with my nipples. His skillful tongue and lips stroked, used and abused my clit continuously. It drove me to climax in record time. As I felt the waves of pleasure wash over me, my body started to jerk up and down. The feeling was unique, and it felt different as well. Like we hadn't seen each other in years, when in fact our last sexual encounter was only a few weeks ago.

He lapped at me a few more times, ending with a slight nibble to my clit that made me gasp. He briefly got up, and soon all trace of clothing had disappeared from his body. Then, his head went back between my legs, giving my entrance a last nip, before moving up again. When he was level with my eyes, he just looked at me with such intensity I felt myself shudder…

"Janey, I…"

"Shut up… please… don't say it… just… please Mark, I need you…"

He looked deep inside my eyes, and kissed me again deeply, with fervor. I could taste both myself and him in that kiss, and the result was wonderfully intoxicating. Unable to wait any longer, I seized his cock and brought it to my folds. Getting the hint, he lost no time and positioned himself properly. He entered me in one powerful trust.

We both cried out in pleasure. He filled me completely. It was a perfect moment. Both our heats were fused, our skins melted… For a second, we did not move. Mark leaned his head against my shoulder and I could feel his hot breath on my neck… I wrapped my arms (as much as I could) around his neck. Everything else disappeared, the bed, the room, the past… Nothing mattered more than this.

Slowly, we started to move. Him pulsing inside me, me moving to meet his thrusts. He slid in and out of me with ease, coated in my juices. I started to pant as he took one of my breasts into his mouth again. My hand raked his back before descending to cup his ass, holding it firmly to try and accelerate the rhythm. He gladly obliged, pounding me faster and even deeper than before. I felt my body fade, replaced by only a flow of sensations… and still I wanted more…

Suddenly on autopilot, I pushed him to the side. He didn't seem to understand at first… until I rose and straddled him. I seized his cock, pumping it a few times before positioning myself above it. He moaned loudly as I teased him, sliding the tip against my wetness to and fro. He tilted his head backwards and closed his eyes. When I couldn't wait any longer, I sank down on him, swallowing him whole inside my walls. We both cried out when he was fully engulfed inside me, and I started to ride him, hard and fast. He grabbed me by the hips and tried to push himself up even further inside. It was pleasure and pain at its most delicious.

I felt myself rising, rising… and fell over the edge with a scream. Still I rode him with all I could. His face became strained with his need to come, and soon I felt him join me in bliss.

I lied on top of him for a few minutes after that, coming down and catching my breath. Mark kissed my again with passion. I couldn't remember us being more perfect than now. Which made everything even more complicated…

I wasn't blind. That had not been make-up sex or even "I-Love-You" sex, more like "I-Almost-Died-Today-And-Need-To-Feel-Alive" sex, nothing more. I still had scars on my forearm from what he had put me through. And they were not going to fade. Ever.

Mark felt it too, I'm sure. Despite what we'd just shared, there was no way things could get back to what they were before Angie's death… or even before he "tested" me… whether we liked it or not.

I dismounted him and sat on the edge of the bed. He got up and got dressed. I did not hold him. Neither said anything. What could we say? _Wanna hang out Saturday night?_ Please.

Once he was ready, he sat down next to me. He almost whispered: "I did what I had to do so you'd be yourself again. I wish there had been another way, but I have no regrets. Even if it means it's over between us…"

He kissed me softly on my brow… and left.

That was it. Over. Finished. No more "us".

The moment I heard the apartment door close, I got up and went looking through my cupboards for one of my "best friends", and found it: an almost full bottle of J.D. Good old Jack…

I got myself a glass, went over to the dining table, sat down and filled the glass to the rim. Now the next logical step would have been to drink it. Probably then pour another one… and so on until I got hammered.

But I just stared at the glass full of sweet poison. I stared and stared and stared… it's not that I did _want _to drink it, I just _couldn't_… Why couldn't I? Because I was on painkillers? Well, okay, that might not be a great idea, but it had never stopped me before, I've enjoyed many alcohol-and-meds induced near-death-experiences since the trial. The one where that asshole lawyer told twelve people from different places and backgrounds that I was too sad and drunk to be able to say "yeah, that's the guy who raped me!".

Something strange was happening to me. I had just replayed the whole courtroom scene in my head… and I felt no rage. Nor was I close to tears as I usually would be. I felt anger, yes, but it wasn't the kind of blind fury that would make punch walls or destroy objects like before…

"_Before"? Before what?_

I was still looking for an answer in front of a full glass when the sun rose. I noticed when the light in the room started to change. I turned my head and saw the sunrise through the window…

_Oh my God…_

Everything was so beautiful! The sun, the sky, the city outside, the light, the way it gleamed and bounced on every object of the room… like the whole world was turning to gold!

That's when it hit me: when I woke up in the medical room and later when I got home, something felt different. But in wasn't _around_ me: it _was_ me. I was different. I had survived hell and now…

_I was alive!_

For the first time in five years, I felt alive. I was resurrected. Every fiber of my being was singing with life. I started to shake… and then I started to cry. For the first time since I woke up, I cried every drop in my body. I sobbed like a little girl. I let it all out. Everything that had been building up for years. Angie's death, how I failed her, the rape, the acquittal, Baxter's release, Mark… the old Jane, the former version of myself, who was gone now forever… I mourned them all right there and then.

Then I was done. I was reborn. And I knew what I had to do.

I got dressed, put my cast back on and got into my car. I drove to the warehouse where I had last seen them. When I got there, I started to look for an entrance. I was a bit lost at this point, knowing that even if I found an entrance, it was probably booby-trapped. So I did the next best thing: I found a camera.

Of course, they would be everywhere, I didn't expect any less from a man like Jigsaw. I just stood in front of one and stared at it. It worked. About five minutes later, I heard a feminine voice.

"Jane? What are you doing here?". Amanda had just appeared from behind a corner.

"I need to see John, please, Amanda."

She smiled. Of course. She understood.

She led me in, through several rooms filled with tools, mannequins… traps in the making. I barely paid attention.

John was sitting behind a makeshift desk covered with sketches, obviously busy designing his next creation. He lifted his head when he heard us arriving, but did not say anything. I walked over to him. Until now, I did not know what I was going to say, only knew I had to see him. The words rolled out of my mouth uncontrollably:

"Thank you."

He nodded.

I will never forget the smirk on John's face when I asked him next:

"So how can I help?"

_**Longest chapter so far. Sometimes it just doesn't stop…**_

_**You know what to do…**_


	11. Chapter 11 The Haystack and the Hourglas

_**Welcome back, my dear readers! Here's chapter eleven, where we find out two things: one, who was the unfortunate soul at the painful end of Marcos' elbow (yeah, you guys guessed right… I should have made it more difficult…) and two, that Marcos truly has some dirty secrets, the first being revealed in this chapter. Indeed, Marcos is no saint. If he was, he wouldn't be tested, would he? Hope you guys still love him after that…**_

_**Oh and I'm sooo relieved you guys like chapter ten! I was really nervous about that one, to be honest. My reaction at your reviews was the following: "yay", *jumps from chair*, "I can write porn!" *face melts* "oh…".So glad you understood the psychological implications too, though…**_

_**Enjoy chapter eleven…**_

_**Warning: blood and torture… **_

**Chapter Eleven – The Second Test: The Haystack And The Hourglass**

Marcos stepped back in horror after recognizing the voice chastising him.

"… E-Engstrom?"

"Marcos, I swear, if I have so much as a bruise, you're dead!"

_Take a number_, he thought. He couldn't believe it: Engstrom was _actually_ here! She must have been kidnapped at the same time as him because she was dressed in the same clothes he had last seen her in, in her usual underrated sexy style: dark denims, long-sleeved but tight fitted white t-shirt and black jacket. He was also kinda hoping she still had her holster, preferably with her gun in it.

"How the hell did you get here?"

"I could ask you the same question! I just woke up! And just where is 'here'? Can you just tell me what the f…"

Engstrom stopped talking and lost her trail of thought. She had just noticed the light coming from the room Marcos had stepped in from. She slowly walked to the door frame, her eyes widening in horror when she noticed all the wires and the timer…

"Oh my god… no… no, this can't be…", she stuttered, on the verge of tears.

"Sophia, please…"

"We're in a fucking Jigsaw game, aren't we? We're being tested!"

"Yes, but listen…"

"How could this happen?", she panicked. "I never did anything to deserve this! I never wasted my life like the other subjects! I should not be here!"

"You're not being tested, Sophia, I am."

She slowly turned her head to look at him. _I probably shouldn't have mentioned that…_

"You're being tested?", she growled.

_That's it, I'm dead_, Marcos thought.

"You're the reason I'm here?", she spat, advancing on him.

"Now, now, let's not do something we might regret…"

"Somehow I can't see how smashing you into a pulp could be regrettable!"

"Sophia, please! This isn't a joke! We need to work together if we want to get out alive! Isn't that you were telling me? That we need to analyze the situation calmly and rationally before engaging action?"

Engstrom considered this for a moment. Marcos had actually listened to her? At least once? The world must be coming to an end… She paced the crudely lit room for a short moment, then collapsed with her back against the wall, hugging her knees. Marcos was beside her in an instant.

"This isn't happening…", she whimpered. "This is NOT happening… It's just a horrible, horrible nightmare… any minute now I'm going to wake up…"

"Sophia, I'm so sorry… look, the recording said you were a tool…"

"Said I was a _WHAT_?", she snapped.

"Sophia, PLEASE! Will you let me finish? I know it's not flattering, but I think we're a bit past that right now… It said that I needed the t… you to pass the test. In other words, you gotta help me or we're both dead… I don't suppose you have your gun with you, have you?"

She glared at him. "I don't have to do squat! You're the one being tested, you go ahead and die! No, I'm just going to stay here and wait for backup, they're bound to find us sometimes…"

"Remember the zoo victims? How long had they been locked up when we found them?"

"This is different! I'm a cop and you're a fed: somebody is bound to come looking for us, or at least for you! I just…"

She was interrupted by a shrill beeping sound. It was coming from the small room she had been locked in. Marcos got up quickly and went over to look… As he advanced, he noticed that the beeping pace was becoming faster. He looked inside…

… _and noticed the accelerating blinking light on top of the nail bomb…_

"_SOPHIA! THE BOMB!"_

Moving at lightning speed, Engstrom got to her feet and they both bolted for the door. Marcos got there first and opened it as fast as he could. Once they were both on the other side, he closed it and they got to each side of the door, flattening their backs against the wall.

The blast almost took the door off its hinges, and the vibrations through the wall were so violent the law officers almost fell to the floor. Once they got their breaths back, they stared at each other… and realized how badly they could see each other. The only source of light was a skylight about 35 feet above their heads. The sky was dark, but a bright full moon shone through. It was pretty much all they could see…

"What the hell?", Marcos said, panting. "Why did he blow the bomb up? I passed the test!"

"My guess is he wanted us to keep moving… so much for my idea of waiting for backup…"

_I don't think they were coming anyway, babe…_, Marcos thought, but instead said: "Do you see a light switch on your side?"

Engstrom fumbled for a second, but finally found the switch and flipped it. Right away, several overhead neon bulbs came to life. The room they were now in was much bigger than the previous one. In the middle of the room stood a large glass-looking rectangular box, lined with metal, closed with a heavy-looking padlock, and with a thick metallic cylinder connecting the top of the box to the ceiling. There seemed to be something in it, but they couldn't tell what. On the opposite wall was another door, with the usual camera looming above it. Also, the walls of the room seemed to be lined with…

"Tumbleweed?", said Marcos. "What's the deal with that?"

"It's not tumbleweed, Marcos.", Engstrom explained with a weary sigh. "It's razor-wire. Large balls of intertwined razor-wire. One of Jigsaw's classics. Hoffman seems to be carefully following the boss' footsteps…"

Marcos felt a chill going through his spine. He didn't even want to think about what he would have to do here… but he knew deep down that, whatever it was, it would hurt.

Suddenly, the shadow inside the box moved… it was a person! He or she stretched its arms, and then jerked its head around, clearly beginning to panic. Engstrom ran to the box and knocked on it: "Hello? Can you hear me?"

The form turned around, revealing a pretty twenty-something girl, skinny, long straight blonde hair… and completely naked. She started to scream: "WHO ARE YOU? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?"

"Ok, I guess you can hear me then… Look, stay calm, we're here to help! My name is Sophia, I'm a police officer, and this is Agent Marcos, he's FBI!"

The blonde looked at Marcos… and both gasped as they recognized each other.

"Oh my God…", said Marcos. "Sheila? Is that you?"

"Julian? What the fuck? Why am I here?"

"I take it you two know each other…", said Engstrom, her eyes quickly going between the two, then fixing on Marcos. "Care to explain?"

"Long story…", sighed Marcos. Engstrom understood from the tone of his voice that she wasn't going to get any more information out of him, so she changed the subject.

Well, don't just stand there! There must be something around here to tell us what to do! Start looking!

Marcos quickly scanned the area. No nail bombs anywhere, that was definitely a plus… and then, there it was, taped to the damaged door they had arrived through: a tape recorder. He took it off the door, called out to Engstrom, who in return signaled Sheila to be quiet. Marcos pressed "play".

Hoffman's voice filled the room.

"_Welcome to your first test, Julian. I trust you will have recognized Sheila, a former, shall I say, 'business associate' of yours. Hopefully detective Engstrom has joined you at this point. As you both know, one of the most important conditions to join the FBI is for the candidate to have a clean criminal record. We both know it wasn't your case, was it, Julian?"_

Engstrom's Jaw dropped. Marcos started to sweat heavily…

"_It just happens that Sheila here is a master hacker. You went to her and, for her usual fare, she magically erased your previous wrongdoings, making it possible for you to enlist at Quantico. Now she made her choice to live in illegality and cheat her way through life, but how can YOU expect to be a hero when you can so easily and without remorse twist the truth? Well, now is the time when you can right that wrong… The key to Sheila's freedom is hidden somewhere within this room, I will let you guess where…"_

Marcos looked at all the razor-wire, and glanced at his hands, already slightly burnt from the previous test and therefore extremely sensitive… I was right, he thought. This is going to hurt…

"_You have two minutes to find that key and free Sheila. Of course, she will then be free to reveal your secret to anyone. Past those two minutes, however, she will die, taking the said secret to her grave. The next door is neither locked nor trapped, you can easily leave. So here's your choice, Julian: save the girl and be a hero, above your faults, or you can just walk away, leaving her to her fate. Life or death. Make your choice."_

The recording ended, and Engstrom sneered at Marcos. "'Long story', huh? And yet it only took _him _thirty seconds… Jesus, Marcos, how…" She was interrupted by a booming noise coming from the cylinder above Sheila's head. Sheila looked at the law officers, lingering of Engstrom, who had never left her side, with tears filling up her eyes. A few seconds later, she disappeared behind a shower of a shiny material coming down from the cylinder at high velocity, and she screamed. When the "shower" stopped, she was still screaming… When she reappeared, it was to slam her body against the glass… smearing it with blood. She was bleeding all over her naked body.

Marcos and Engstrom looked at each other in horror. Engstrom crouched and examined the shiny material more closely at Sheila's feet: broken glass. She looked up at Sheila: she still had some pieces embedded in her skin… The stuff wasn't just _falling_ on her, it was _projected_…

"Marcos! For fuck's sake, do something!"

Marcos snapped out of his reverie, and stared at the razor-wire. The key was somewhere in there, he knew it, but he couldn't bring himself to start looking…

Engstrom seized the padlock and tugged at it. She knew, of course, knowing Jigsaw, that it was useless, but she had to try…

Just then, Sheila was again doused in broken glass. The scream she let out was just petrifying… When it stopped, she was knee deep in shards, and in her panic started to thrash around…

"No!", shouted Engstrom. "Sheila! Don't move, you'll only make it worse! Marcos, where's that fucking key?"

Marcos had not moved from his spot. Engstrom calling out to him again made him react at last. He went over to the first bundle of wire, took a deep breath… and started digging in.

He cried out as the blades cut into his hands and wrists. It hurt like hell, but he tried to ignore it, for Engstrom's sake.

_You mean Sheila's sake_, his conscience whispered. _Yeah, that too…_

Sheila was screaming like a banshee, and despite Engstrom's warning, thrashing around like crazy. That is, until she was doused again in broken glass. She was crying now. Engstrom saw she was going to go into shock soon…

"Marcos, please! Hurry up!"

"I'm trying! I can't find it! You could give me a hand!"

"No, I can't! The test is designed for you, and Hoffman's watching us!", she said, pointing at the camera. "If he sees me helping, he's capable of just ending the test sooner that planned… and that would not be good for any of us!"

_Damn,_ Marcos thought, _always fucking right…_ He started moving around again. His hands were bleeding, but only from scratches. Marcos was not going to just grab the wire to push it aside… too painful… so he was just fingering it until he saw a shining object in the middle of the fourth stack…

_The key!_

But if it could only be so simple… It was attached to the razor-wire with… more razor-wire! He groaned in anticipation for the pain to come…

In the box, Sheila was now up to her waist in glass shreds. She was crying noisily, hitting the glass panel with both her bloody fists… Engstrom was still by her side, trying to soothe her with words of comfort… to no avail…

Marcos stared at the key… he really, really didn't want to get it right now…

Engstrom turned away from the poor girl to look at Marcos, and saw him motionless. What the fuck…? "Marcos!", she shouted. "Wake up, damn you! She is going to fucking DIE!"

Marcos looked at her, ashamed to be caught… well, at being a coward. "Yeah, erm… I found the key…"

"Well? Get it here, then! She hasn't got much time left…"

_Easier said than done…,_ he thought. He reached for the little bundle and took one end of the wire between his fingers and pulled. It didn't move. He pulled harder, cutting the pulp of his fingers and he winced… then only did the wire move. _Looks like I can't avoid it…_

He started to move the wire around the key… Eventually all of his fingers were cut into, and he was swearing under his breath…

Engstrom was starting to panic now and tugged again at the lock in desperation… the glass had reached shoulder-level…

With a growl of pain, Marcos finally undid the wire… _the key was in his bleeding hands_… He almost jumped with joy!

"YEAH! I GOT IT!"

"Quickly!", shouted Engstrom. Marcos threw the key at her. She caught it and in the same motion put it in the lock and turned. The box opened just as another glass shower went through. Engstrom jumped aside as all the shreds fell out and spilled across the floor, Sheila on top.

Engstrom ran to her. She carefully tried to remove as much glass a possible from the girl's frail and damaged body. She was weakened, but conscious. Marcos was busy removing his shirt and tearing it into strips to bandage his hands.

Engrstrom looked up at him. "What did you do?"

"What?"

"The things you did that got this poor girl into this mess? What were they?"

"What the hell? I didn't put here there! She's a hacker! A criminal!"

"And yet she's _here_ because of _your_ actions, Marcos, not anyone else's! See a link there, maybe? As for being a criminal, well, it seems to take one to know one! Answer me now: what did you do?"

Marcos clenched his jaw…

"What was it, Julian?"

He looked at her again, surprised. It was the first time she's called him by his first name… She looked almost pleading… That was different for her… He inhaled and answered her question.

"Manslaughter.", he almost whispered. "I was 16."

If Engstrom's eyes could have gone wider, they would have. How could he hide something like that? She turned to the barely conscious girl: how could _she_ hide something like that? That's one heck of a hacker…

"OK… well right now, we have more important things to deal with… but you're going to have a lot to explain later…"

Marcos thought Yeah, if we all make it…

Engstrom took off her jacket and put it on Sheila's back, then helped her up very carefully.

"I don't get it…", Marcos said. "If you're supposed to help me, why couldn't you… well, _help me_?"

"You're being tested, Marcos, not me. I think I'm supposed to help you by keeping you focused… you seemed to be having trouble with that earlier…"

Marcos ignored the comment. But he noticed she was calling him by his last name again. That stung a bit…

He finished bandaging his hands. Engstrom was holding Sheila up. _What do we do now?,_ he thought, but the answer was obvious: they had to carry on. The next door seemed to be waiting for them. The girl was going to slow them down though…

As if reading his thoughts, Engstrom spoke to him in a soft voice. "You passed two tests so far, Julian. I'd say the odds are in your favor." For now, she thought, but did not voice.

Marcos nodded, touched. They made their way to the door, he opened it for the girls. As he let them through, he stared at the camera.

_I know you're there. And guess what? I'm winning, asshole…_

With a smirk, he gave the lens the finger.

_**Just so you know, I did do my research, and you do need a clean criminal record to enter the FBI. As in completely clean. Even if Marcos had been cleared of the charges, it's still on record, so he wouldn't have been able to join normally. They sometimes make exceptions if the postulant has had an exceptional conduct report or if they show a remarkable ability in one the fields the Bureau specializes in. But we can all guess that's not the case…**_

_**Let me know what you think…**_


	12. Chapter 12 Jane's Works

"_**You don't know what it's like to be like me  
To be hurt, to feel lost  
To be left out in the dark  
To be kicked when you're down  
To feel like you've been pushed around  
To be on the edge of breaking down  
And no one's there to save you  
No you don't know what it's like"  
**__**A Simple Plan, Welcome to my life**_

_**Wow! I'm getting so much support from my readers every time I update now! I'm loving it! Thank you so much to all of you!**_

_**Special mention to SawManiac211: well if you like bubbles… read on…**_

_**Disclaimer: we already have established that I do not own any of the SAW characters, but I also need to point out that one of Jane's lines is (lovingly) ripped off from Dirty Harry, **__**one of the best movies of all time**__**. So don't sue me… **_

**Chapter Twelve – Jane's Works**

Six months went by, and so many things changed… But change is good. I could at long last let go of the past.

First in my surroundings. I moved out for a new apartment. It was neither bigger nor better, I just needed to change the scenery. I sold all my old furniture and bought everything anew, for the same reasons. Next was my appearance. Obviously, everything short-sleeved in my wardrobe had to go. _Oh well, sunlight is highly overrated anyway_. At least I wouldn't die from sun-induced skin cancer… I also changed my hair and started wearing make-up again.

I was now a fully-fledged member of the team. My tasks mostly consisted in case building. John got info for a test subject from either Amanda or Mark (or sometimes on his own, God only knows how), and I was the one who would study said subject's habits, moves, and take pictures. John insisted I only took black and white pictures, said it would help us being more detached toward the subject… He could be so cold sometimes.

Me being there allowed Amanda to work more on trap-building, which was good because John was getting weaker and weaker. Mark was the "hired muscle", according to Amanda, but his most important task was watching our backs. As he had done for Tapp, he could warn us if anyone was getting close.

I became pretty close to Lawrence, whom I started to call "Larry". It came naturally, as we were both kind of outsiders to the rest of the group. There was John, the patriarch, then Amanda and Mark, the right and left hands of God, who would carry on his work after his death. Then there was Larry and I, the Healer and the Tracker, the ones watching the action from the back of the room.

Larry wasn't there very often. After all, he had duties the hospital and his family. He just made sure he was available when a game was set. When he was present, we would talk and joke for ages, as if we had met in school or something. Amanda had warned me about his reputation as a "ladies' man", but Larry never made any moves in my direction. I think that part of him died in the bathroom…

####################

One day, I arrived at the "lair", as Larry liked to call the warehouse (I personally preferred to call it HQ), to find Amanda pointing at the wall with a familiar handgun. She had her back to me and had not heard me come in. I could tell she had no experience with handling a gun. She seemed to be role-playing somehow, pointing the gun, taking poses… I called out: "You what I'm wondering? If you fired seven shots or six? Cos I am feeling lucky today."

Amanda looked at me in surprise, but smiled right away. She had always struck me as the awkward kid who's acting tough but is actually in desperate need of friends.

"Do you even know how to use this?", I said, pointing at the gun.

"Yeah. Aim, pull trigger, bastard's dead. Easy."

I tried not to laugh. "Ok, try."

"Huh?"

"Shoot. I promise I won't tell. Just try and get that can over there." She just glared at me. "C'mon, Mandy! Show me what you're made of!"

That did it. She hated when anyone called her that. She pointed the gun at said can, looked like she was concentrating and pulled the trigger. The gun went click. Amanda stared at it. "What the…?"

I couldn't help but grin. "First of all, your arm is too tense, recall will tear it off at that rate. Second, you forgot to check is the safety was on, and guess what? It was. And third…" I took the gun from her hand. "… this is Hoffman's gun. Yeah, I recognized it. He may leave it lying around, but never loaded. Knowing him, he's probably got the charger on him. Still think it's that easy?"

Amanda looked sheepish. I hesitated for a second, but then carried on, showing her the right moves: "Look, you have to hold out both arms, but keep them a bit slack. One hand holds the gun, the other one supports it. If you have to hold it with just one hand, try even to keep your arm folded a little, and close to your body. I mean it, recall can be a nasty bitch! When you're not aiming, keep the gun pointing either at the floor or the ceiling, and if you're just holding it with no danger around, keep your finger off the trigger. And always check the safety. Wanna try again?"

I could argue that it seemed a good idea at the time… The truth is, I just never thought of the consequences…

####################

The strangest thing I had to do was Eric Matthews' game. I knew Eric, through Mark. I never liked the guy, to be honest, too cocksure and arrogant. It just felt so weird to set him up… I knew he had framed Amanda, and that somehow John was testing him so that she could get some closure too. When he escaped and hurt her, she was in such a state! Larry and I cared for her and she healed pretty quickly, but something within her had changed. The way she looked at us after that… Her demeanor had not changed, except that, when working on a trap, she would be very cold, especially towards Mark… We kept Eric alive without her knowledge, and even I thought that was wrong. But those were John's orders, and not to be messed with…

I had a real shock when I had to build Allison Kerry's file, several weeks later. I knew Alli too, she always ran to me for a shoulder to cry on. Most of the time it would be about her disastrous relationship with Eric. Neither of us had many female friends, and I was a good listener, especially after my test.

However, before anything was done about her, John summoned us all in the sick room. He was in pretty bad shape by then. He told us that he had a great plan coming ahead: two lengthy games would be played simultaneously, with both Eric and Mark being involved in one of them. My jaw dropped and, before I could stop myself, I was voicing my worries quite violently. They fell on deaf ears. John was not changing his mind, and Mark wanted to be there for Rigg. So I just insisted on being more involved this time around.

Mark and I had not been intimate ever since the night after my test. We were officially broken up. But you can't just erase a relationship like my amazement, we got on really well after that. No hard feelings whatsoever. All the bad times seemed time miles away. I even managed to forgive him for testing me. After all, in a sick and twisted way, it did help. I felt alive again. It seems insane really that working in mass murdering would set us free like that…

One day Mark came to see me at work. I was surprised to see him, we never did see each other outside of the warehouse anymore. He looked really sad. He didn't say hello, only two words:

"Kerry failed.", and left.

I was stunned. Out of all people, I had really thought Alli would have made it. I took my head in my hands. I couldn't believe she was gone. I was so sure that she had what it took to survive, even since Eric's disappearance. Had I really misjudged her that badly? Had she been that far gone in sorrow? If that was the case, why didn't I see it? Was I losing my gift?

I did not think for a second that we had done the wrong thing in testing her. I never did. But it seemed so strange that she would have failed. I found out where she was and decided to go say goodbye…

I found her lifeless body hanging from a trap I recognized immediately. Amanda had been working on that one. You were supposed to dip your hand in acid to get the key to your freedom. Painful, yes, but I really had thought that someone like Kerry had the guts to do that. I spoke aloud: "Allison… I'm sorry…". I looked at her mangled body… what a waste. I caught myself thinking it was Eric's fault for drowning her in despair like that...

But then I noticed the key.

Nestled on the harness, fitting perfectly in the lock… _She had made it after all…_

I gasped in horror. Kerry had passed the test! And yet, here she was, disemboweled, rotting away… Oh God, that was so wrong…

I ran back to the warehouse. I was not going to let that pass, no way! I found Mark and Larry talking in the workroom, no sight of John or Amanda. I shouted: "What the hell is going on? This is wrong! This is not what we do! When did the rules change?"

They looked at me, intrigued. "What are you talking about?", asked Larry.

"I just went to see Kerry's body a-and… Guys, she passed the test! I saw the key in the lock! She should be alive! Since when do we just torture and murder people? This is not what I signed for!"

They looked at each other, then Mark said "Neither did we. Jane, we have a problem."

He showed me something that looked like a hook that had been lying on a table nearby. "I was at a crime scene yesterday: Troy's. You know the one?" I nodded: I had seen the sketches. "Well, Troy's test has been a little… tampered with. See this? It was one of the hooks he had to tear through to get freed… except this one was through his mandible."

My jaw dropped. "What? That's insane! It's physically impossible to…"

"I know, and that's not all: the door to the classroom was welded shut. The trap was inescapable in two ways."

I could feel tears welling up. I felt cold and sick. I whispered: "I'm out. I quit. No way I'm doing this. I got in to make a difference, not… not this… God, I think I'm gonna throw up…"

Larry had his hand on my shoulder in a second. "Easy, easy… sit down and put your head between your knees… deep breaths… We were just talking about this. Amanda made the inescapable traps. We need to talk to John, this is getting way out of hand… We're just not sure whether he knew or not…"

"Knew what, doctor Gordon?"

Three heads shot up. John had just appeared in the door frame, looking thinner and paler than ever. But his eyes were still as piercing. Us sidekicks exchanged looks. Mark spoke first. "John, there's something we need to know…"

"If I know that Amanda has become a murderer? I do."

We just stared at the man. Larry said: "When did the rules change, John?"

"They have not. Amanda just seems to have changed their interpretation. I assure you I never had a hand in this. I have only recently found out about her 'special' traps. She is drifting away from her path…"

_No shit Sherlock_, I thought. "John… you really didn't have anything to do with this?"

"I assure you I didn't, Jane, but please never doubt me again."

_Shut up, Janey…_

"I wanted to talk to you all about this while she was out. Something needs to be done."

"Oh God, John…" I said when realization suddenly dawned on me. "This might be a good time to tell you I've taught her how to use a gun…"

####################

The next few days almost drove me insane. John had me file-building for more and more games, with more and more people tested. There was one for a group of persons involved in a deadly fire, another one for a couple of loan sharks or a health insurance salesman… I asked him why he wanted me to do so much so quickly. He refused to answer, but his eyes said it all: he was running out of time…

We had very little time to work Amanda's new test into the other two. Everything required a flawless timing, and this on top was so risky, I was really starting to panic. Mark was involved in this, I did not want him hurt… He kept on reassuring me that he would be fine, that Rigg was going to make it, blah blah blah… Still I was worried. I even almost bailed out… Until Larry presented me with two new files.

"What are these?", I asked.

"Two more test subjects for Rigg's game. Have a look."

_Right. As if we didn't have enough work as it is_, I thought. I opened the files…

Once again, I was fighting back tears. There were the pictures of my rapist, Ivan Landsness, and his asshole lawyer, Art Blank. I asked: "Why?"

"It's not like either of them don't deserve it. And you need closure too. Call it their bad karma, or something. Besides… look, don't be mad, but we've been working on Blank for a while, now…"

"Is this Mark's idea?"

"Mmmmh? Yes and no. Blank used to be in business with John too, a while back. Small world, heh? But as I was saying…"

Just then, Mark irrupted into the room. "John available?"

"Don't think so", I said, "I think Amanda just gave him his meds, he'll be out of it for a couple of hours. Why?"

"We have a problem."

"I really don't like to hear you say that…" said Larry.

"Turns out Allison was passing out information on the Jigsaw case to the FBI. Two agents have showed up today, they intend on taking over the case…"

"The Feds? I thought we had more time…"

"Jane, anything you can do on your side?"

"Like what? Asks them to back off for a couple more days while we interview a new recruit? Get real, Mark…"

Mark paced for a second, then stopped, apparently lost in thought. He turned to us: "Do we have any spare traps?"

####################

"Can you see me?", Amanda said in the walkie-talkie.

I was standing in what was to be soon Eric and Blank's test room, in front of a row of monitors Amanda had suddenly appeared on: "Yep, you're on. Is that what you're wearing?"

"Fuck you, bitch! You wish you looked this good!", she laughed.

"How are you set on your side?"

"Just need to get that surgeon lady from the hospital and we'll be ready. You?"

"Just sent Larry to get Matthews. Mark and I are about wrapping it up."

"Cool. See you on the other side, ha ha!"

_Famous last words indeed… God, Amanda, please don't be an idiot… _

I put the walkie-talkie in my duffle bag and looked back at Mark. He had discarded his jacket was rolling his shirt's sleeves up.

"Did I mention I don't like this one bit?" I said.

"Just a couple million times.", he grinned. The bastard was grinning…

"Did I mention it could be dangerous? For you?"

"Do you know how cute you are when you're worried?"

"Shut. Up." I pointed to the chair. "Sit."

He obliged, still grinning from ear to ear. I picked up his jacket and put it in the duffle bag, then took out the phony restraints. I put them around his ankles, and then I proceeded to the wrists.

"Ring any bells?", he said while wiggling his brow.

I arched a brow, but I could not suppress a smile. I tightened the restraints roughly, he let out an "ouch!". He was still looking at me with his gorgeous come-to-bed eyes...

I put one arm on each side of the chair, framing his face and dominating him.

"Does this?" I leaned in and kissed him. He kissed me back right away. It quickly grew deeper, stronger… softer. Not that I would ever admit it, but I missed this. His full lips rubbing mine, his sweet loving tongue fighting for dominance, the heat radiating from our mouths…

I almost forgot to breathe. When I broke the kiss to do so, he looked at me with a tenderness I hadn't seen in him for a long time. He leaned up for seconds but I had moved back already.

"Huh-uh! Gluttony is a capital sin, remember?"

"So is lust."

"Yeah, well, I'm keeping that one in check, aren't I?" I got the gag out of the duffle bag and Mark smirked.

"Minx.", he said.

"Perv.", I replied, and put the gag into place. Then I placed a smaller kiss upon his lips. Just then Larry walked in, dragging an unconscious Eric on a cart behind him. Time was short. I got a syringe out of the duffle bag.

"Ok, Mark, this is gonna knock you out for a few minutes. Eric will assume you've been kidnapped, and, if they run some tests afterwards, forensics will find traces of sedative in your blood, so it will confirm everything."

Mark nodded. But looked at me longingly. _Afterwards_. John had mentioned we shouldn't see each other for a few days once Rigg's test had been completed. Mark would be in the limelight for awhile, and we shouldn't compromise that. However, more games would need to happen in the meantime…

I injected him, and he quickly went to sleep, just as Larry called out: "Jane? I think Mathews' starting to come around…"

_Shit._ I hurried to my duffle bag, and got the hog masks out. Larry and I put them on, and donned the black cloaks too. Using a pulley system John had designed, we heaved Eric on top of the ice block just as he was regaining consciousness. He started to thrash around, but I signaled him to stop. He looked around, saw Mark unconscious, and stilled. We left the room.

Back in the warehouse, Larry started to collect any belongings he had left behind.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"We're leaving, Jane. John's orders. You know that."

"Larry… We can't leave. They might need us, need you…"

"Hey, hey, stop it! Stop worrying yourself silly! If John needs us, he knows where to find us…"

"I don't know… These are people I know, doc. Eric, Rigg… Amanda… Mark…"

"I know. Look, Amanda's losing it. She needs today's test. If she fails…"

"Yes, Larry? What if she fails?"

Larry looked at me, but didn't answer. Instead, he said: "Come on, I'll drive you home."

####################

_The gruesome Jigsaw murders are finally at an end. Last night, the police forces seconded by the FBI found the body of serial killer John Kramer, a.k.a. Jigsaw, at the abandoned Gideon Meat-Packing Plant. Kramer, along with accomplice Amanda Young, were found dead at the scene, slain by potential victim Jeff Denlon. Denlon apparently tried to open fire on FBI agent Peter Strahm, and was shot dead. Several more victims were found at the scene. FBI Agent Strahm was transported to hospital following injuries. The hero of the day and only survivor was Lieutenant Mark Hoffman, who saved the life a little girl held hostage by Jigsaw in the process… More later…_

I switched the TV off.

Mark was okay.

John and Amanda were dead.

I sooo needed a drink… hadn't had a single shot since my test…

"Nobody made it", Mark had said when Fisk found him.

They were all dead.

A French playwright and actor named Molière was giving a performance while dying of tuberculosis. When his co-actors tried to get him off the stage to rest, he refused, saying his famous last words: _The show must go on_. He died onstage an hour later.

That's what was going to happen. The games would go on, _we_ would go on… without John.

I suddenly had this awful feeling like jumping off a plane without a parachute…

_**We're about catching up now, more should make sense. I'm waiting…**_


	13. Chapter 13 the Hangman's Drop

_**Hi guys, I'm back! Sorry about the lateness in my update, but I've been quite badly ill… Did you know that intense heat and humid climate can actually make your brain swell? Well neither did I… until it happened to me! Problem is, when your brain increases in size, your skull does not… ouch… Couldn't eat, couldn't sleep… I really wanted someone to show up with some tools to crack my head open, I did… Where's Lynn when you need her? Oh yeah… dead… so very inconsiderate of her… **_

_**Anyway, Marcos and Engstrom are back, though they wish they weren't. They probably wish they were miles from where they are, maybe on a beach under the palm trees… oh, no, wait, that's MY wish!**_

_**Enjoy Chapter Thirteen! Warning: torture… and pain… and blood… and gore… Oh, you get the idea!**_

**Chapter Thirteen – The Hangman's Drop**

Turns out the next room was in fact… a corridor. They started their progression slowly, Engstrom supporting Sheila and wondering why she was doing it. After all, Marcos could even carry the girl. It was his fault she was there… that they both were.

Marcos was walking ahead of them, apparently in a hurry to get to the next test. How many more would there be? How many people…?

A moment later, Sheila fell to the floor, no longer able to support herself. Engstrom tried to lift her up, but she wasn't strong enough…

"What's wrong with her?"

"Apart from needing urgent medical attention, you mean? She's lost a lot of blood, Marcos, and she's emotionally drained too. I would like to see how long you would stay conscious after the day she's had…"

"Hey! I almost got my brains fried trying to help you, missy!"

"Oh, cry me a river… Those tests are not design to kill you, but to kill us unless you can help it, when are you going to get that? The whole point of the game is to make you reflect on your past actions!"

"How do you know that?"

Engstrom rolled her eyes. "How could you not know that? It's Jigsaw's M.O., it's how it works! He's done it before to others!"

Still angry, Engstrom propped Sheila up in a sitting position against a wall. The girl's light blonde hair was now dark with blood, caking at the roots. Engstrom could tell she was slipping into a coma fast…

"Sophia!", shouted Marcos. Engstrom thought for a second about lecturing him again o the fact that he was calling her by her first name again, even though she had never allowed him to do so. But then she decided against it. He was already going to get a black eye should they get out alive…

Marcos had finally found a door and was staring at it. It's wasn't difficult to guess that it was leading to the next test. Although no words adorned it, a large hangman's noose had been drawn on it in white paint.

"I think this is it." He looked at Engstrom, waiting for a witty return that never came. "Well… let's go…"

"Wait! What about Sheila? We can't leave her here!"

"We can. Look, she'll only slow us down. And, besides, these traps never last long…"

Engstrom arched a brow. "I can't believe you just said that…"

"You know what I mean!"

"How can you be so casual about all of this!"

"I'm not! I'm just… argh… look, she's exhausted, let's just let her rest, okay? If we move her much more, she's only gonna get worse, right?"

Engstrom knew he didn't really care about the young hacker's well-being, but he was right nonetheless: Sheila was only gonna get worse if she carried on walking. She crouched back next to the girl.

"Sheila? You hear me, honey? We're gonna leave you for just one minute, okay? We'll be right back, then we'll get you to a doctor, okay? Just… rest, alright? You're gonna be fine, I promise…"

Sheila slowly nodded, then let her head drop a little. Engstrom got back up and went to Marcos.

"You ready for this?

"No, but since when does that matter? Let's just get this over with…"

Marcos nodded, then seized the door handle and turned it. The door opened easily… on a pitch-black room. Even the light from the corridor didn't help: they could barely see a yard ahead. They went in anyway.

"Here we go again… do you see a switch?"

"No, Marcos, do you see a tape recorder?"

"Not in pitch black, no, ain't it funny… Could you at least help?"

"Erm, Marcos? I'm kinda helping the poor girl up right now, find the stupid switch yourself, okay?"

"Getting testy again, Sophia…"

"Is that supposed to be a pun? Cos if it is, it's of the poorest taste, really…"

"What? Why would be a… oh… right… sorry."

"How's this light switch coming?"

Marcos started feeling around for a switch, when suddenly he heard a noise behind him.

"Did you hear that?

"What?"

"That… like a whisper or something…"

"Methinks a little light might help…", she said with an exasperated sigh…

He started looking again, but then heard the noise once more.

"Did you…"

"YES I HEARD! WILL YOU JUST FIND THE FUCKING SWITCH ALREADY!"

Marcos felt around a little more and finally found a switch, which he quickly flipped. The room came to life.

It was vast, with a high ceiling on which hung a heavy-looking pulley. Through it ran a thick chain, pooling on the floor beneath and linked… to a bound and gagged woman lying on the floor.

"Oh dear God…", Engstrom gasped.

The woman was looking at them with pleading, tears-filled eyes. She was dressed in an expensive grey suit, her long brownish hair spread around her head. She seemed to be in her mid-forties. She was gagged with what looked like a leather belt. Her hands and feet were in tight and strong shackles. The ones at her feet were attached to the chain hanging from the ceiling.

But the strangest looking item in the room was a pair of metal hoops welded into the concrete floor, inches away from the woman's face. Also, fixed to another pulley on the ceiling, a few feet above the hoops, and both Marcos and Engstrom shuddered when they saw it, was a thick rope with a hangman's noose at the end of it.

Laying against the hoops wad a tape recorder.

Both law officers looked wearily at each other. Engstrom could tell by Marcos' face that he had recognized the woman, but he wasn't saying anything. He just bent down and picked up the recorder. But then he just stared at it, unable to press the button. Gently, Engstrom took it from his hand and pressed "play".

"_Well done, agent Marcos. You have made it to your second test. I'm sure, by now, that you'll have recognized Maureen. Maureen was one of the examiners on your final test to become a full time FBI agent. You slept with her then threatened to tell her husband if she didn't give you the necessary number of points for you to pass. You blackmailed your way into the Bureau, Julian. Is that really a way to behave for a hero?"_

Engstrom stared in horror at Marcos. He avoided her gaze, looking more and more like a guilty child.

"_A little history lesson for you now. Only five centuries ago, one of the Holy Inquisition's favorite methods of execution was called The Drop. It consisted in suspending the victim upside down from a great height, then being dropped to have their skull crushed on the floor beneath. You can spare Maureen the same fate. All you have to do is pass your feet through the hoops on the floor and one arm in the noose. Your arm will be pulled up, but only for thirty seconds. If you do so, Maureen will be spared. If not, the gears at the other end of the chain will swiftly pull her up twenty-five feet in the air… then let her drop head first to her death. Of course, you will get your arm dislocated in the process, but it seems a small price to pay to be a hero. Make your choice."_

Engstrom glared at Marcos. "Oh God… you're not even a real agent… I'm stuck in a Jigsaw game with a fucking cow-boy… I don't believe this…".

Marcos was about to reply, but right on cue, they heard the machinery on the other side of the room come to life. The chain at Maureen's feet was starting to slowly pull up, and so was the noose. Maureen was starting to cry, heavy sobs raking her chest.

Marcos was rooted to his spot.

"Marcos! Quickly, get the noose!"

"He said it would dislocate…"

"It's easy to pop back in, Julian, I swear! Painful, but easy! Look, get to it, and I'll have a look at the machinery, see if I can jam it or something. Come on…"

She took his arm and led him to the hoops. He positioned his feet through them and his arm through the noose. He held on to the rope and braced himself while Engstrom made her way through the room. Soon enough he felt the pull… and tried to pull back.

The noose was still, not tightening itself around Marcos' wrist like it would have logically done. He understood why, though. He was not going to be a prisoner of the rope. He was just going to have to _want_ to hold on. This was purely and simply a test of willpower.

The chain at Maureen's feet came to a stop, but the rope didn't. Marcos could feel the tension in it. He tried to seize the noose with his other arm as well, but his body was stretched so that he couldn't get a good grip with more than one hand.

His body was being dragged up, but he held on to the hoops with his feet. He looked at Maureen, her eyes were fixed on him and filled with both hope and fear.

He wanted to tell her some reassuring words, but he had never been good at that, so he just concentrating on the mechanical force stretching his arm.

Time seemed so slow, it was agonizing. His upper torso was now becoming sore. He could feel every nerve in his spine starting to burn. Feel every vertebrae separating slowly… so awfully slowly… so _agonizingly_ slowly…

The rope was digging into his wrist, the rough rope burning his skin. But it wasn't the worst.

He was feeling the worst now: he could feel his arm starting to dislocate. He could almost picture it as it was happening… could feel his arm and forearm separating, feel his shoulder slip… feel his shoulder blade move out of place…

It had begun.

Marcos hissed in pain. He could almost hear his bones rubbing together as they moved out… The pain was excruciating. Any second now, his arm was going to dislocate…

The second a muscle slid under his shoulder blade, he was blinded by pain. It seared through his body like lightning. He screamed out in agony. His brain suddenly went into survival mode, refusing anymore pain…

… _and he let go of the noose…_

_Only sixteen seconds had passed…_

There was a loud noise, which made Engstrom's head shoot back in their direction. Her eyes went wide when she saw Marcos fall to the floor clutching his arm.

In just one second which seemed the longest in Engstrom's life, both noose and chain shot up, dragging Maureen with them and elevating her high in the air. Neither of them would ever forget the look on her face, hanging upside down, realizing what was about to happen… It didn't seem possible that human eyes could hold so much fear…

Then she fell.

Head first.

When it came in contact with the hard concrete floor, her skull didn't just split. It was pulverized. Pieces of bone, skin, scalp and grey matter were splattered everywhere, some of it even got on Marcos' shirt…

Engstrom screamed in anguish. Marcos jumped back a couple of feet.

The stain of blood and brain matter was spread in the shape of a spider's web. It was everywhere… on the floor, on the chain… matted in Maureen's hair and clothes…

Her eyes were wide open.

Marcos could have sworn _they were looking at him…_

He choked back the tears, and crawled to his former lover's body. He tried to take her head in his hands but each time he seized one place, it just fell off and he was left with just a piece of bloodied skin or hair in his fingers…

He roared: "Damn you, Hoffman! I'll fucking kill you for this!"

"Bullshit, Marcos!", Engstrom shouted back, her voice filled with anger. "You put her here! You put _us_ here! You're the bastard responsible for this! You fucking asshole, it's _your_ entire fucking fault, not Jigsaw's! When are you gonna fucking realize that?"

Marcos held his head down against Maureen's, smearing his hair in her blood. They had shared nothing but one night, and he didn't care much for her then, but still… nobody deserved this…

Engstrom walked up to them. She wanted to yell at him some more, but the spectacle of Marcos in the middle of all that gore was so pathetic, she gave up and walked out of the room.

Marcos remained a few more moments in the same position, trying to regain control of himself. When he felt he could hold back the tears, he slowly stood up. His arm was sore, but still holding in the same place. He stared at the body…

He had failed the test.

It had started well, though. He had saved Sophia, and then Sheila… He couldn't believe he had failed now…

He looked at his hands. Some of the cuts from the previous test had reopened. His sleeves were covered in blood. _Not all of it his own._

Was it all for nothing?

No, he decided. He had lost this test, but the game was not over. And when it was, and he had survived, he would put Hoffman's head on a spike and parade it through the streets.

He would be respected then.

He would be a hero again.

He turned his heels and walked back into the corridor.

Engstrom was sitting against the wall opposite the door, not far from Sheila. She looked like she had not had any sleep in years, but she was clenching her jaw.

He decided he didn't want to deal with her anger now, and started to walk off in search of the next test.

Engstrom looked up then called out to him. "Who was it?"

Marcos stared at her. "Who was what?"

"Geez! Were you the high school champion at repeating everything? Or are you just stupidly avoiding the issue? Who the fuck did you kill, Marcos?"

Marcos stayed silent for a moment, and Engstrom thought he was not going to answer, but then he spoke.

"My older brother and I went to a bar when I was 16, with some fake IDs. We got hammered and… got into a fight with some older jocks there. At some point I lost it, broke a bottle and lunged at one of the guys with it. But… he moved and… and Sean… my brother… was right behind him and… and…". Marcos squeezed his eyes shut.

"You killed him, didn't you? You stabbed your own brother…"

Marcos started sobbing. He could no longer hold his tears or his frustration. He leaned back against a wall and took his face in his hands. His sobs were abrupt and loud.

Engrstrom sighed and looked at Sheila. She wasn't moving. Not a muscle. _Not even her ribcage…_

_Had that pool of blood underneath her been there before?_

"Sheila?"

_**Please keep reviewing! I love it so much!**_

_**About "The Drop" being used by the Inquisition, that's not exactly true, I kinda made that up. The trap was actually inspired by a scene from "The Fountain", a truly beautiful movie by Darren Aronofsky. In said scene, an Inquisitor kills several people in that manner, but I did some research, and never found any proof that it actually was a method of execution used by those fanatic nut jobs. So maybe they did, maybe they didn't, but it fit with my story. I usually don't like to mess with history, but since I'm admitting it, I'm kinda forgiven, right? "The Fountain", although having many intense and painful scenes, is a beautiful love story. See it if you can, especially the big softies among you… you know who you are…**_

_**I should warn you: not many chapters left to this story… please don't eat me…**_


	14. Chapter 14 Jane's Moves

"_**I say some stupid shit  
Don't mean a word of it  
You know I got a lot of love inside me  
This world's an ugly place  
For such a pretty face  
They're comin' at you from all sides  
But they gotta get through me."**_

_**The Eels, I Want To Protect You**_

_**Hi guys, Jane's back and she's not happy… Here we finally catch up with the action at the end of Saw VI and goes AU from there. I've just learned that my local cinema just got its 3D room ready, and will definitely release the next installment in 3D! I'm so happy! Though I did get some weird looks when I asked the usher…**_

_**Some reviewers have been slacking… naughty, naughty… I could just stop writing, ya know… That's right, I'm threatening to cut you off now. Aren't I mean…**_

_**Enjoy!**_

**Chapter Fourteen – Jane's Moves**

I was woken up in the middle of the night by somebody frantically ringing the door bell. I groaned and got to my feet. I was a bit hazy from the painkillers. The pain in my arm had come back earlier in the afternoon and, although physical therapy was doing wonders, it still gave me a little trouble now and then.

I quickly got dressed in a loose t-shirt and grey slacks. The bell had stopped, replaced by a loud banging. I looked at the clock: it was way to late (or early) for me to be in a good mood about whatever my night visitor had to say. _Boy, have you picked the wrong girl to annoy in the middle of the night…_

By the time I got to the door, the banging had turned into right down punching. Whoever it was, they were really desperate to get in! A drunk? I thought for a second about getting my gun, but it would probably end up badly.

I looked through the peephole. I could only see a mass of hair. My night visitor was leaning against the door. Great. I called out "Who is it?", but only got mumbling in response. I hesitated about opening the door. Oh well. Swore an oath and all that crap…

I opened the door and my night visitor tumbled in. I was really going to get angry a second before I saw the blood. And another passed before I recognized Mark!

"Oh my god, Mark!" I kneeled down beside him and took his head in my hands. "What happ… oh no!" My hands were covered in blood. His cheek was torn off and was hanging off his face!

"Hold on, babe, I'll call an ambulance!"

"No… no ambulance…"

"Mark, you're hurt, seriously hurt! You need to get to a hospital fast!"

"No hospital… get… Gordon…"

"I can't! Not before the next game, I could blow his cover!"

"Just… get him!"

I quickly considered my options. Calling Larry was risky, but Mark would refuse any other help. So I helped him up and dragged him to the couch. I quickly wrapped his head in a towel and called Larry.

An hour later, Mark was lying in my bed after taking painkillers, his cheek stitched up and Larry was cracking jokes about how it was a shame he couldn't stitch the rest of his mouth shut. But Mark wasn't laughing. He was just staring into space. He had a look on his face that both Larry and I had seen before: in the mirror, after our own tests…

Turns out Amanda had been right about one thing…

I sat down on the bed, next to him. "Mark? What happened?"

He looked at me, then straight ahead again. "John said I couldn't walk away untested. He was right."

"Yeah, we guessed that. Who tested you?"

"Jill, after the game."

Larry and I looked at each other, intrigued, then back at Mark. "What game?", asked Larry.

"Easton's."

"Easton's? But it wasn't supposed to start for another week!"

"Yeah, well, it started last night, and that's not all…"

And he told us everything: Perez being alive, Erickson hot on his trail, the game, the fire, Jill… When he was done, I was fuming.

"You burnt them? You just burnt it all? Just when, exactly, did that seem like a good idea to you?"

"I don't have time for this, Janey. My DNA is all over the game site, I bled a lot. That's why I couldn't go to the hospital yet: we need to clean up and a backup plan. As for the fire, chill out, I made sure nobody saw me…"

"Nobody? Not even the station's parking lot cameras?"

"C-cameras? There aren't…"

"They installed them last week, what did you think the building team was there for? Damn it, Mark, now your cover's blown for sure! How could you be so stupid? Did you really believe they would think it was Strahm? Since when was stabbing and close shooting part of Jigsaw's M.O.? Or burning the scene, for that matter? For fuck's sake! Now you've really done it… How long now before they come for Larry or for me? Oh, and congratulations: you're now officially a serial murderer!"

With that I stormed out of the room. If I hadn't, I would have probably ended up hitting him…

I went to the living room and started pacing. I wanted to cry, to break something… or punch somebody… My blood was rushing, which resulted in waking the ache in my arm. I stared at it: until now, the scars reminded me of the price paid for a new life… Now I was wondering: had it all been for nothing?

I fell down on the couch, with my head in my hands. I needed to think, but I couldn't concentrate on anything… a few moments later, Larry appeared, looking nonchalant, with his hands in his pockets.

He smiled and said: "Look at us: the Scar club. Or the Scarred And Maimed club, in my case. Or the **S**carred **A**nd **W**ounded club, until Hoffman's healed. Sounds like a good horror movie title, don't you think?"

I smiled. "It would be a flop. Nobody would believe it."

"Well, horror movies aren't always supposed to be believable. Look, Jane, I know you're scared…"

"Worried? I'm not worried! I'm scared shitless! You wanna know the last time I was this scared?" I showed him my scarred arm. "Here's a hint!"

"We all knew what we were getting into, and we knew the risks. We knew a day like this could come. I have no regrets."

"I can already hear the bloodhounds barking at the door…"

"Jane, listen to me. It's not over yet! At work, nobody knows about you and Mark, right?"

"No… officially, we broke up a long time ago…"

"So the worst that could happen is that you could be interrogated like Jill was, but not necessarily suspected, right again?"

"Yeah…"

"And I am kind of covered by my status as a Jigsaw survivor. Not exactly completely since they found out about Amanda, but still… And if it comes to the worst, well, it's not like John hadn't thought about that possibility. There's always the Endgame Solution…"

"How can you think like that? Larry, you have a family!"

"I'm not so sure about that…"

"What?"

He inhaled deeply. "You know I was in the middle of a divorce procedure? Well, halfway through, my dear ex-wife decided that the attention I got after my test was a bad influence on my daughter, so now she's filing for sole custody. And it looks like she's going to get it too…"

"Oh, Larry, I'm so sorry…"

He sat down next to me. "It's alright… well no, it's not. I want to see my daughter again, but maybe it was part of the price to be paid, you know?" He pointed at his prosthetic foot. "I want to fight for her, but… maybe she shouldn't be mixed with everything else… I just hope she'll understand one day…"

I didn't know what to say. What can you say in those circumstances? It's not like there's any kind of words that could make him feel better. So I just hugged him. I also let a few tears run…

It felt good to let go. Larry had always been the protective, big brother type with me. It felt like neither of us would ever be alone, no matter how tough things were going.

He broke the hug fist, and became serious again. "Hoffman's right about one thing: we need a plan."

I wiped my tears. Before John's death, Hoffman's job was mainly to watch our backs. I guessed it would be mine now. Larry was known as a Jigsaw survivor, but nobody knew about me. I needed to go to the station and find out everything I could. But first things first…

"Look, would you mind keeping an eye on him for a couple of hours? There's somebody I need to see…"

He looked at me, then nodded. "Don't kill her."

I grinned. "Would I ever…."

####################

The sun was about to rise when I got to the clinic. I parked in the lot and tried to breathe a few times to regain my composure. I was still shaking with anger. I didn't know who I wanted to kill first: Mark or Jill.

I had never met Jill Tuck before. Never had to. It's not like John ever invited her over and introduced the whole "gang" over coffee and doughnuts. So I had the element of surprise with me. I just went to the clinic she worked at and straight for the information desk.

"Hi, I'm looking for Jill Tuck?"

A voice behind me said: "Yes? How can I help?"

I turned around to face her. Gosh, she was beautiful. Eyes of a doe's, shiny hair, soft smile… John sure had great taste in women. She was smiling, like _really_ smiling. So I smiled back and went into improvisation mode.

"Hello… I'm here on a friend's recommendation, she said you could help me?"

"I'll do my best. Who's your friend?"

_The one whose face is half torn off because of you, bitch._ "Well, erm… Actually, it's a rather delicate matter, could we go somewhere private?

"Why, sure, follow me."

Lovely and trusting. Miss Tuck should really learn to be more careful, especially in her line of work… I followed her in her office. There, she sat behind her desk. I closed and locked the door behind me, which got me a strange look from her. Slowly, I pulled up my left sleeve, and showed her my scars.

"Got a pill for this?"

She just stared. "Who are…"

"I work for John."

I didn't need any further introduction. Several emotions went through her eyes quickly: disbelief, anger… ah, here we are: fear. She got up and bolted for the door, but I was faster and blocked her way.

"Wow! Where d'you think you're going, girl? We're not done here."

"I'll call security!"

"Sure, you do that, then let's tell them why I'm here, huh? Sit."

She did so, never getting her eyes off me. I could tell she was really afraid now.

"So who are you? The guard dog come to bite my leg off?"

"One: ouch-that-hurt, and two: don't tempt me. You see, Jill… you don't mind that I call you Jill, do you? You're practically family, after all… There's still a few of us you haven't met, and we… 'abide' by certain rules. John's rules. Rules you broke last night…"

"Hoffman got what was coming to him…"

"That was never for you to decide!" I said, and immediately realized the irony in my words…

She growled, a mix of rage and tears. "He knew about Amanda having a part in Gideon's death! John wanted him to be tested!"

"Except that wasn't a test! You didn't give him a chance to get out of the trap! You broke the rules, Jill, that was nothing more than attempted murder!"

"A-attempted? He's alive?"

"Damn right he is! And you're lucky I'm here instead of him! You wanna know what happened to the last girl who broke our rules?"

"John would not have wanted you to kill me."

I sighed, but never left her eyes. "Indeed. John believed your miscarriage had been trial enough."

I moved closer to her desk and leaned forward on it, dominating her.

"But John is dead now, isn't he?"

I wanted Jill to be afraid. We were all in enough danger already from the police and the Feds; we did not need to worry about her on top of that. Still, if John had been alive, he would have had my hide for what I was doing to her…

"So I'll tell you this once and only once. You mess with us ever again…"

"Let me guess: you'll kill me with your bare hands?" she interrupted.

I couldn't help but smile. The girl had found her spine again. "Sure, why not. Which hand would you prefer, Jill? This one," I showed the right one, "or this one?" I brought my scarred arm to the level of her eyes. "I have been to Hell and back, pretty face, do you really wanna be on my bad side?"

She tried to look strong, but I could see right through her. I got what I want: she was scared of me. I pulled down my sleeve and walked to the door. I opened it and looked at her one last time. "If you intend on doing anything like last night again, I suggest you watch your back. God knows what we could stick in it."

I left. I tried to look normal as I did. She did not follow me, which was a good sign. Once I was in the parking lot, I went for the first bush and threw up.

When I went back to the car, I caught myself wondering if I had parked it in the same place that John had on that fateful night… How ironic it seemed that each time, Jill had had to suffer… by the hands of my team…

_Doesn't justify her going around trapping us_, I thought. _Does it…?_

####################

An hour later, I drove to the station. I needed to find out if Mark's cover could be maintained. But I didn't even have to go inside. As I arrived in the parking lot, I could see that Hell had broken loose… and left only cops to clean up the mess…

I tried to get as close as I could while staying discreet. The smoke had darkened the walls outside the tech lab, the smell was strong. I could see yellow tape at the entrance, CSIs in their white overalls talking and pointing, the medical team van…

Just at that moment, three black body bags were carried out of the building. One cop looked like he was about to heave. The bags were hauled into the med team van, on their way to the coroner's. I really, really did not want to be in Heffner's shoes right now…

I thought I ought to stop the car still and go chat with some of the uniforms. But then I saw Fisk.

He was sitting on the front steps, holding his head in his hands, looking like a ton of brick had fallen on his back. No… like he just lost a friend. And, in a way, he had…

I did not need to stay any further. I knew.

####################

I went back to my place and told Larry about my findings. Mark would have to rest today but we both agreed that we needed to move him to a safe place. Luckily, there was still a few available. But for how long?

After Larry left, I suddenly felt exhausted. I knew I couldn't call in sick, that would just arise suspicion. I just filled my travel mug with coffee and got ready.

Just before I left, I went to see Mark. He was asleep. I sat down on the bed next to him.

Were we on borrowed time? Would Larry be found next? Or me? What would happen then? What would happen to the legacy? I refused to believe it had all been for nothing. When would we run out of places to hide?

I looked at his beautiful face, and the horrid scar that was really an insult to his beauty.

How did all of this happen?

"_Mark really likes you, you know…" _ I hear Angie's voice from long ago… "_My brother and my BFF! How perfect is that?"_

Can you see us from where you are, Angie? What happened to us? You're dead, your brother in on the run, and I'm…

"Janey?"

"Mhm?" I came back to Earth: Mark was awake and staring quizzically at me.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You're crying…"

_How perfect is that…_

####################

The next day, a new FBI agent had arrived.

_**Don't kill me: there should only be three chapters left after that… I say "should" because of the lack of reviews I got for the last chapter… hint, hint…**_

_**R&R please!**_


	15. Chapter 15 The Last Test: The Martyr

_**Hi Guys. I'm updating a little sooner than expected and will do so with the next chapters (two of them), simply because I really want to have it all posted before I go on holiday. My best friend and I are going to London at the end of the month for her birthday! London Party, baby! It's gonna rock!**_

_**I'm so pleased you guys liked Jane's attitude towards Jill in the last chapter! I thought I would get shot down in flames for that, to be honest. Glad to see the risk paid off.**_

_**In this chapter, Marcos' dark side shows more than ever before. The whole game is getting to him, and Engstrom is gonna pay for it… Warning: abuse and blood, the usual drill. Oh and some ass-kicking too!**_

_**My little blackmail of the week: if you give lots and lots of reviews, I might just throw a very, VERY steamy scene in the next chapter… Just "might"… WANT REVIEWS!**_

**Chapter fifteen – The Last Test: The Martyr**

How could she have not noticed? The blood loss alone should have been a clue…

But now Sheila was lying dead in a pool of her own blood, bled dry. After a close examination, Engstrom found the culprit: a larger piece of glass had lodged itself in the girl's femoral artery. But if she had taken it out, Sheila would probably have lived, what? Ten minutes less?

Marcos was pacing, clearly furious.

"How could this happen?" he shouted.

"She bled out…"

"I can see that! How could you let this happen?"

She gasped. "Me?"

"Yes, you! You were looking after her, weren't you?"

"I don't believe this! You making me responsible for her death? Have you gone fucking insane? You're the one responsible!"

"Bullshit!"

"How many times do I have to say this, Marcos? This is your game! Wanna know what happened? You just stood there and took too long to retrieve the damn key, that's what happened!"

"But I did retrieve it in the end! I won!"

Engstrom just stared in disbelief.

"You… _won_?"

Marcos just realized what he said. It was so _wrong_… but hell if he was going to let her know…

"Well, it's a game, isn't it? Said so yourself…"

"Okay… soooo… what about the other people in this game? Mmm? What are they, Monopoly money?"

"Fuck you…"

"Real mature, Marcos… You're supposed to learn a lesson here, you know!"

"Oh please, enlighten me, Little Miss Jigsaw Did Me A Favor!"

Engstrom's jaw dropped and she felt the anger rising. "Don't you fucking dare…"

"No, no, go on! After all, we've already started the sharing, haven't we? Thought I'd forgotten? Come on! You're the fucking expert! Just lay it on me, you self-righteous…"

Her fist connected with his cheekbone.

Marcos reeled back, stunned. One thing he had never expected from Engstrom was violence! He couldn't believe what had just happened… But when he looked at her, her usually green eyes were almost black with rage, her jaw was clenched and she stood in a fight stance.

His face ached. He could already feel the bruise forming. He had thought when he first met her that she had tiny hands, but man, the girl had a mean hook!

"You wanna try that again?", she said. "'Cos I've got lot more where that one came from!"

Marcos rubbed his cheek. "Tell me why you think Jigsaw did you a favor."

"Did us all a favor. Gets to the guys we can't."

"Don't pull that shit on me! Tell me!"

"No!"

"TELL ME!"

"FUCK YOU! There are many of us out there that are glad for some of the subjects being dead! The world unfortunately isn't exactly short of them!"

"I told you about my brother!"

"Yeah you did indeed tell me you're an out of control moron as well as a fraud! You sooo deserve to be here!"

"For all I know you're just another Jigsaw apprentice! Here to keep an eye on me!"

"Keep an eye on…? Pray tell, what are the cameras for, then? How can I be sure you're not said apprentice and that I'm the one being tested, huh?"

"Like you care what happens to me anyway!"

"Oh, I fucking care! If you die, what do you think will happen to me? I somehow don't think Hoffman will send me on paid vacation to Hawaii! We're both in this, Marcos, and when I see what happen to the women you work with, let me tell you: I'm fucking worried!"

Marcos took a deep breath, or he was going to hit her. "That. Wasn't. My fault."

"Really? Whose fault was is then? Sheila's, for wiping your record clean? Maureen's, for letting you go through the exam when you clearly didn't deserve to? Or the next subject's, whatever he or she's done that's probably worse!"

"Are you ever going to shut up?"

"Make me!"

He slapped her.

He was surprised by his own gesture. It just happened! Like his arm had a mind of its own! But he did not apologize. Had no intention to. It was time after all that she learnt who she was dealing with.

Engstrom did not try to retaliate. She kept her eyes on the floor until she was calm enough to look him in the eyes.

"Julian. They're dead. Sheila, Maureen, your brother… Just deal with it. But we're still alive and the game's not over. So get a grip, and let's find the next test, okay?"

Marcos couldn't believe how calm and rational she was. Was she afraid of him? He just nodded.

Engstrom retrieved her blood-smeared jacket from the dead girl's shoulders and they started walking down the corridor in silence.

Marcos felt a bit bad about hitting a woman and Engstrom in particular. But she was always bringing him down, anyway, when she really had no reason to, he felt. She had hit him first after all…

Engstrom was keeping an unreadable face on, but inside, her blood was boiling. Had she listened to her inner voice, she would have engaged into a fully-fledged fight with the idiot. But her logical side had kicked in just in time, reminding her that still had to get out of here. Whether she liked it or not, she needed Marcos.

Around a corner, they were faced with a wooden door with a central glass panel. The panel was adorned with a painted stylized arrow pointing upwards.

When she saw Marcos tilting his head and look up, Engstrom let out a growl.

"No, Marcos, it does not mean 'this way up'! God!"

"I knew that!" he said… Actually he had been wondering if it had meant he had to go though the ceiling…

Indeed, the arrow had been spray painted, but with a few unnecessary details, like little diagonals at the bottom. A simple indicator of direction would not have needed them.

"So… what do you think it means?"

Engstrom snorted. "No wonder you needed help to pass your exam. It's probably a clue about what's on the other side. Three guesses as to how we find out…"

Marcos just scowled. He took another long look at the door.

_Are you ready for this? _his internal voice asked. _No… I'll never be ready for this. I worry about whoever who could be ready for this. But it's not like I have a choice, is it?_

Nodding to himself, he went to the door, Engstrom in tow. He caught the handle, took a deep breath… and went in.

As usual, the room was pitch black. This time it was Engstrom that felt around for a light switch. She quickly found it (_Damn show off_, thought Marcos, who had never found it faster in the previous tests).

The room came to life. It was about as big as the one Marcos had woken up in. There was another door in the same style as the one they had just come though.

In the middle of the room stood two pillars. One of them was actually a large metal cylinder. On one side, facing the other pillar, were five holes, disposed vertically…

In each on a metallic arrow was poking out.

On the opposite side of it, connected to the base, and both shuddered when they saw it, was a work top with a circular saw coming out of it. It looked like a wood slicer. Behind it was a small chute, disappearing into the pillar.

The other pillar looked similar, sans slicer. Only a man was tightly bound to it with a harness of chains and leather straps. He was in his mid-thirties, balding, with heavy cheeks and slightly overweight. He was conscious though did not seem to fully realize the situation. A tape recorder was taped to his chest.

Any other day, Engstrom would have run to him and fought to free him. But now she was weary and worn out. She just knew what was going to happen and how. She just hoped they could still all three come out alive…

She could tell Marcos had recognized the bound man, and he had an interesting mix of fear and fatigue on his face. Like he was not surprised, but had prayed for this moment never to come.

"I guess you know this one too?", she asked.

Marcos saw no point in lying. "Yeah, I do. Hi, Lloyd."

"Marcos?" shouted Lloyd. "What the fuck is going on? After all I did for you!"

"Yeah well, you got me the Jigsaw case: guess where you are."

Lloyd's eyes went wide. "Oh no! Oh God no!"

"I don't think God can help you, man." He tore off the recorder. "Let's just see if I can."

He pressed "play".

"_At last we arrive to the last chapter of our story, Julian. Should you pass this last challenge, you will be rewarded. Indeed we will finally come face to face and we shall see what you have learned. You remember Lloyd don't you? You wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him. Lloyd is a FBI agent, like you, and was Erickson's contact back at the Bureau. He's the one that should have told your superiors about Erickson's death. But he didn't, did he? He was on his way when you met him and he told you. Of course, he could have gone to his bosses afterwards, but you bought his silence. That's right: you bribed your way into the Jigsaw case…"_

"Oh my God!" cried Engstrom.

Marcos looked at her. This was the info that would really get him in trouble… if he ever got out… if _she_ ever got out…

"_Lloyd is now facing a device that will launch an arrow in a key area of his body every twenty seconds. He will survive three. Even four, if brought to a hospital quickly. The fifth arrow will lodge itself in his throat, and then it will be too late. The only way to stop the mechanism is to put some weight in the scale inside the device. You may access it __**through**__ the slicer on the side. It won't need much weight… three of your fingers will be enough."_

Marcos felt the sweat trickling down his back…

"_You have been given the tools to your redemption. There are many ways to come out of this room, Julian. Make your choice."_

The recording ended. With perfect timing, the gears inside the pillar came loudly into motion, and the slicer's circular saw began to rotate at high speed. Lloyd's stared with terror.

Engstrom had started fidgeting. _Marcos has not moved! Why isn't he moving? He should at least be looking for a way to break the chains or something…_

Marcos was just staring at the slicer.

Just then, the first arrow launched and landed in Lloyd's left shin. He cried out in pain, and Marcos came back to reality.

He stared at his hands… but then his head jerked up to face Engstrom. _You have been given the tools to your redemption, _the tape had said.

_She is the Tool…_

Engstrom did not understand while he was suddenly staring at her with that strange look in his eyes… _until she realized what he was about to do!_

"No! _Julian, don't_!"

He moved like a snake. In a second, he had one arm around her shoulders while holding one of her wrists with the other. She struggled and kicked, but he held her fast. He dragged her to the slicer…

She screamed and begged, but Marcos couldn't hear her anymore. He was now pushing her little hand towards the blade, just as the second arrow launched and flew into Lloyd's right thigh. His screams echoed Engstrom's as she felt the wind from the blade on her knuckles.

With adrenaline rushing through her veins, Engstrom reacted quickly and threw her head backwards. The back of her skull connected with his nose. Her let her go in reflex, crying out in pain. Engstrom moved fast and landed him a right hook in the jaw. Marcos stumbled backwards… and a second later delivered a punch to her gut.

The third arrow landed in the hip. It pierced bone.

Both Marcos and Engstrom were now deaf to Lloyd's screams and pleas, too caught up in a fight that had been coming for a while now… Engstrom threw a punch back, straight into Marcos' chest. The air got knocked out of his lungs. She quickly followed it with a kick in the stomach, sending him flat on his back.

As she caught her breath and Marcos struggled to get back up, she turned her head to Lloyd. He was crying like an infant. She took a step towards him just in time to see the fourth arrow find his abdomen.

She wasn't quite sure what the head had reached. It might have been the stomach, in which case he had up to half an hour to live. Or the lower part of a lung, and then he had less time…

What are we doing? Why are we fighting when we should be helping…

Her thoughts were brutally interrupted. Marcos had grabbed her by the hair and started to twist her arm behind her back. She sent her heel backwards into his knee, and he let go with a growl. She turned to face him, ready for more…

Suddenly they heard a blood-chilling gurgling sound…

They looked at Lloyd: the last arrow, larger than the others, had just lodged itself in his throat. He was drowning in his own blood…

Engstrom ran to his side while Marcos just sank to the floor in despair. Engstrom put her hands on each side of the dying man's face and looked into his eyes. He was going to die painfully, but if she could help it, he was not going to die alone.

A few seconds later, Lloyd's eyes were closing forever.

Engstrom fell to her knees. She was trying harder than ever to hold back her tears… Marcos just sat there, his legs spread in front of him. It had been all for nothing…

He heard Engstrom's voice, almost a whimper: "They're all dead… you're just a fucking fraud…" He wanted to object, but she kept going. "Nobody's coming for us… nobody's coming for you… nobody knows you're here… nobody… Oh dear God, what have you done?"

He looked at her without a trace of emotion on his face. No, he was never supposed to be on the Jigsaw case. He was just supposed to have stayed behind his desk and look for a ringer in some suspected terrorist's bank slips. He had just thought that this could be his big break… just thought that, if he just went there and arrested the baddy, if he just showed them his courage and nerve… then maybe…

So he just hid Erickson's demise and forged a letter saying that he was the man for the job. And this is where it led him… on a trail filled with corpses _he_ had dragged there…

He kneeled next to Sophia. Told her they had to go. In response, she elbowed him in the gut. He fell backwards.

"Let's go, then.", she said standing up and heading to the door opposite the one they had come from.

Marcos followed her a few seconds later and caught up to her. As they walked side by side in yet another corridor, he looked at their appearance. They were a mess. Hair going in all directions, clothes torn and smeared with blood… She had a bruise on her cheek and his nose was bleeding… _Some sight for the heroes_, he thought.

The corridor ended on a similar door to the one from the last trap. On it was painted a bull's eye target. In front of the door was a small wooden box.

They looked at each other, then Marcos kneeled down to open it. They both let out a gasp when they saw their respective service weapons inside.

Marcos touched his handgun, still refusing to believe it was here. He felt like he had just found an old friend after years of separation. He took it in his hands and relished in the feel of it. He handed the other one to Engstrom, who snapped it out of his hand.

Marcos looked up, surprised, to see Engstrom pointing her gun at his temple with the corners of her usually pretty mouth curled in fury.

After the initial shock of being held at gunpoint, Marcos looked deep into her eyes.

"You gonna shoot me, Sophia? You, the good guy?"

Engstrom seriously pondered this for a few moments. Very slowly, she shook her head and lowered her gun.

"No… I can't just…"

Before she could say another word, Marcos had her pinned against a wall with his hand around her throat. He pushed his whole body against hers to make sure she couldn't budge.

"Now you listen to me, sweet girl. There will be no more of this. I'm going through this door, and I'm gonna drag that bastard into daylight. You will keep quiet about everything you learnt, okay? Otherwise, you could just meet an even more painful fate than everything you witnessed today, you got me?"

Engstrom just scowled.

"DO YOU GET ME?" he growled, tightening his hold on her throat.

Struggling for air, she nodded.

Marcos released her and her hands flew to her throat. She coughed up a couple of times as her trachea went back to its normal shape. She had murder in her eyes.

Marcos decided to ignore it. He motioned her to stand beside him. She obliged.

They both raised their guns towards the door, in a honed and practiced action stance.

Marcos kicked the door open.

_**Okay here comes the disclaimer/history lesson: the trap in this chapter is inspired by the Martyrdom of Saint Sebastian. Have you ever realized how many gory stories there are in the Bible? Basically, poor dude got showered in arrows for being a Christian. Ouch. However, contrarily to Lloyd, Sebastian survived… till he got beaten to death. If at first you don't succeed…**_

_**Oh, and funny fact: in some countries, Saint Sebastian is the patron saint of… policemen. I swear I'm not making this stuff up!**_

_**No need to tell you, I think, that the next time we see Marcos and Engstrom, a certain blue-eyed wonder will be joining them… and we will have reached the end. Don't cry.**_

_**Next chapter: Jane's back, Hoffman's in her bedroom where we left him… Well it could go two ways. One, I get lots of reviews and they get busy. Two: I get squat and they play cards.**_

_**Make your choice…**_


	16. Chapter 16 Jane's Heart

"_**There's a story in your eyes  
I can see the hurt behind your smile  
For every sign I recognize  
Another one escapes me  
Let me know what plagues your mind  
Let me be the one to know you best  
Be the one to hold you up  
When you feel like you're sinking  
Tell me once again what's beneath the pain you're feeling  
Don't abandon me or think you can't be saved  
I walk beside you wherever you are  
Whatever it takes no matter how far."**_

_**Dream Theater, Walk Beside You**_

_**Okay, I got a few reviews… Not sure it was enough, though, there wasn't much begging… Oh, who am I kidding? Enjoy the hotness!**_

**Chapter Sixteen – Jane's Heart**

"There's something weird about that Marcos guy."

"Apart from the fact that he's after your boyfriend, you mean?", said Larry between two mouthfuls.

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Isn't he?"

"No… well, I don't think so… it's complicated, Larry…"

We were having lunch at a diner just outside of town, somewhere we wouldn't be seen. These days we had to be more careful than ever. When we had to meet up, I would call his secretary and pretend to be a patient, or even sometimes a date, so he could still appear to have a social life. We would never meet in the same place twice.

He looked at me, smirking at my last statement. "Sure is. So what's so weird about… what's his name?"

"Marcos. Julian Marcos. I'm not sure; he doesn't… behave like a normal Fed. He's not focused, like Strahm, or patient, like Perez. He's… nothing like a Fed! It drives me crazy!"

"Well, you would know. What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I need to find out more about the guy."

He leant back in his chair. "Gotta be careful, Jane. File-building isn't as safe as it used to be…"

"Smart-ass. I never said anything about… that. I just wanna know why they sent this… I wanna say 'rookie', but it doesn't seem right… Why would the Bureau send us a beginner after a crack team like Erickson's? Doesn't make sense…"

"Maybe they don't want to lose any more 'cracks' and are now just getting rid of the bad apples.", he said with a grin.

I laughed at that. It was good to laugh. The past week had been tough. I had to walk on eggshells everywhere I went. Nobody had come to me yet about Mark, who was still recovering at my place. I was surprised that Marcos guy hadn't looked into his target's previous relationships… Had Strahm lived, he would have done that in a second. And I would be in a very uncomfortable position right now.

I thought about Jill and all the hours she spent in interrogation. How Strahm had been with her…

I hadn't seen Jill since our little chat. I had been keeping an eye on her from afar, though. Make that very far, actually. I had been preoccupied by other things. Like living a double life. By day, I would show up at work and be nice to my colleagues, by night I was nursing a dangerous wanted man back to health. Strange world we live in…

"How's your hand?" asked Larry, back in doctor mode.

My hand was doing a lot better. Thanks to therapy, I could move my fingers again, even seized light objects. Therefore I could still maintain the illusion that both my arm were perfectly valid. But I still had no feelings in it. Someone could stab it and I wouldn't feel a thing.

"S'fine. I get a tingling in it from time to time, but that's it. Thank you, Doctor Gordon." I said with a mocking grin.

"Do you need any more painkillers?"

"Maybe some for Mark. He says he's okay, but just in case… Talking of which, we're gonna have to move him soon. They're gonna make the link with me at some point, and they'll probably want to search my crib."

"Next on John's list is an abandoned garage on the north side. It's got an office that can be used as a room. I'll buy a cot tomorrow. When do you want to move him?"

"Tomorrow night, providing I'm still a free woman. If not… you know what to do."

"Yeah… don't worry too much about it, you said the Fed wasn't too bright…"

"I really don't know how to feel about this. On one hand, I'm pretty sure he won't get Mark, on the other… well, he could put some of us in danger…"

Larry pondered this for a moment. "Better get to work, then."

####################

I got home that night and heard some noise in the bedroom. Mark was supposed to be resting! I got my gun out and walked as quietly as I could to the bedroom door and listened carefully…

"Put the gun down, Janey, it's only me."

I groaned and put my gun back in its holster. I opened the door. Mark was standing by the bed, fully dressed, finishing to button his shirt up. He tried to smile at me, which only worked to make his scar look worse. And yet…

I entered the room. "Okay, two things: one, how did you know I was there, and two, what are you doing up?"

"Oh come on, I'm disfigured, not paraplegic. I can't stay in bed forever. As for the other thing… Well, I haven't survived this long in this job without a few talents."

"Amanda was right, you are arrogant."

His smile disappeared. _Good_, I thought. I was still mad at him for fucking up with Erickson. Wasn't I?

Seeing him standing there in my bedroom brought back all kinds of memories and feelings I would rather not have at that particular moment. I even caught myself thinking the scar wasn't so bad, that it added character… _Oh, for fuck's sake, Janey, you are being pathetic, really…_

"Right, I forgot: you two were like sisters really. Shared everything… remind me, what was that little thing you taught her to use? Metallic, goes 'bang', looks like the one you have under your jacket? Like you never fucked up…"

Ouch, that actually _hurt._ "Whatever. Where d'you get the clothes?"

"Good old Gordon. Thank goodness he's a little more understanding than you are at the moment…"

"Understanding? Oh, please! I know I have learned my lesson during my test ages ago! What exactly am I supposed to understand?"

"That I have learned mine!"

That was a slap in the face. Indeed, Mark had gone through the exact same thing I did. Except that he had come a lot closer to death than me. At least, I had been given a key to my "sleeve". God, I had been a bitch.

"I'm sorry.", I said.

"For what?"

"Geez, Mark! Don't make me draw a list! I'm sorry, period. Just take what you're given."

The smirk was back. _Yeah,yeah, smart guy, you won that one. Don't get used to it. _He sat on the bed, and proceeded to put on his shoes. I took off my jacket and holster, put the former in the closet and the latter on the dresser. Then I went to casually sit down next to Mark.

"I need to talk to you."

"I love it when you say that."

"You're moving out tomorrow."

"You've already had enough of me?"

"Oh for crying out… Yes, I have. Had enough of you squatting my bedroom while I sleep on the couch."

"Nobody forced you to sleep on the couch."

"I don't have a guest bedroom, Mark, where else would I… Oh." _Real nice, Janey, you walked right into that one…_ Mark's grin was bigger than ever. I didn't know what was worse: that he could so easily make me look stupid… or that I really, really loved his wolfish smirk when he did… _I need help._

Without realizing it, I had moved closer to him. We were looking in each other's eyes in silence. Until he spoke.

"Do you remember when I said that maybe we should move in together?"

"When did you ever say that?"

"Oh, years ago… Before Angie's death… I was just thinking that this is as close as we ever got to doing that."

"Mmm… and to think all it took was for you to get your face ripped off…"

He laughed at that. "Yeah, like all it took you to start smiling again was to get your arm sliced! Aren't we a pair of freaks!" I joined him in laughter. It was good to see him laugh.

I looked into his eyes, and at his scar. I cupped it with my left hand. When facing each other, our scarred sides matched. To think… How close he had come to dying… how close I had come to losing him…

"You in pain?", I asked.

"No."

"Good…"

I closed the distance between us and kissed him. I tried to be careful as he wasn't completely healed, but soon we were both so wrapped up in the moment we threw caution to the wind. I felt his arms around my waist, pulling me tightly to him. It had been so long! I just wanted to feel him, all of him, against and within me…

Mark didn't seem to feel any pain as he crushed his mouth against mine. Our tongues worked slowly at first, but soon picked up the pace, transforming a massage into lovemaking. He tasted as sweet as in the past, of honey and spices. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me a little away to slide his lips along my throat. They felt like fire…

I unbuttoned his shirt, slid my hands underneath to remove it, taking my time to caress his strong chest and broad shoulders. When he pulled back to take it off, he looked intensely at me. His eyes were almost black with lust…

I lost it.

I almost ripped my top and bra off and threw myself at him. It had been so long! My arms just found home around his neck while my fingers just grabbed his hair and pulled him even closer. I relished in the feel of his bare chest against mine. I felt a hand on my hip, while the other slid inside my pants. I cursed myself. _Why do I always wear those? Would it kill me to wear a skirt once in a while?_ But I didn't seem to bother him as he found his way inside my underwear.

I gasped when his fingers found my clit. I immediately attacked his belt and made quick work of removing it. I slid down the zipper and his cock sprang free, hard like a rock. I wrapped my hand around it and started stroking. He hissed at my touch, and, without stopping to stroke my clit, crushed his lips back on mine.

When he slid a finger inside me, I moaned loudly into his mouth and pumped harder on his cock. He broke contact and started sucking on one of my breast while kneading the other with his free hand. The whole position was getting awkward, so I stopped and pushed him off. He seemed a little surprised as he landed flat on the bed, but he soon understood why. I was positioning myself over his cock and soon took it into my mouth. I heard him groan.

His skin was soft and tasted like sweet brine. I rolled my tongue all over the tip, then pulled out to lick down his whole length, cupping and massaging his balls with one hand. I heard him grunt. Not stopping, I glanced back up: Mark was leaning on his forearms, head tilted back. I felt a bit smug, I admit it.

After a few moments of my ministrations, I felt him getting more and more tense. I thought for a second about letting him come in my mouth, but he took that decision for me. All of a sudden, he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up for a hungry kiss. God, his lips were so soft…

He broke contact to remove the rest of his trousers. I stood up to do the same. Once I was naked, I stopped dead. This felt all too familiar…

Mark looked at me, puzzled. "Janey? You okay, sweetheart?"

"This is going to be just like last time, isn't it? One of us just wanting to feel alive?"

"No, baby… this is us finding each other again."

He sat on the edge of the bed and held out his hand. I took it and he softly pulled me to him. He made me straddle his lap. I slowly sank onto his erection, never leaving his eyes, and we both moaned loudly as I sheathed his entire length. His arms wrapped themselves tightly around my waist. His mouth found mine again. Our kiss grew more passionate with each passing second. I was home.

Slowly at first, we started moving, deliciously riding each other. The rhythm though soon picked up like crescendo. I wrapped my arms around his head and shoulders, pressing my head into the crook of his neck. I couldn't get enough of him, of his skin, of his touch…

He was deeper inside that he had ever been, and it was the most incredible sensation. Every stroke filled me more than the last, touching exactly the right spot inside me every time. The friction was incredible. Wanting him to feel as much pleasure as I did, I started squeezing his shaft with my inside walls. His moans echoed mine as we pressed our foreheads together. I felt my orgasm near, and I could tell Mark wasn't far off either.

Like he was reading my mind, he leaned down to suck on my breast while accelerating the rhythm. I cried out, urging him to go harder, faster… He obliged and I felt my whole body tremor with anticipation, like our skins could hardly contain the flow of sensation that was overtaking us. Soon I fell over the edge, screaming his name. I reflex, I squeezed him so hard that he followed me a second later.

We fell back on the bed, panting, still connected, our skins glistening with sweat. We did not break the embrace. I just rested my head on his damp chest, listening to his heartbeat. I felt him kiss my hair.

It was perfect.

And the bastard had been right: we had found each other again. Us, new and improved. God, I hated when he was right… except for now.

"Janey?"

"Mmm?" Oh, why did he have to ruin the moment with talking?

"I know you've been through a lot, and so have I. I just thought… even after everything that's happened between and around us… maybe…"

I raised my head. I could guess what he was going to say next…

"D'you think you could ever love me again?"

I moved up his body to look straight into his eyes.

"What makes you think I ever stopped?" Our lips crashed again into a deep kiss… I could feel the tension rising again…

Just then, I got a call from work.

####################

When I found out the zoo had been discovered, I immediately called Larry to tell him to take Mark to the garage. Now was the best moment, all eyes were turned in another direction and would be for a while.

The next day, on my lunch break, I went to the garage. It felt just like when I used to join "the gang" at the warehouse, and later at the plant. I almost expected to see John when I opened the office door.

Instead I saw Mark, sitting at a recuperated desk, looking over some blueprints. That's when it hit me: Mark was the new Jigsaw. Did that make me an apprentice? And Larry? But then Mark smiled at me and got up to welcome me with a kiss. I put my worries at the back of my head and handed him a file.

"I discovered some very interesting things about that Marcos guy…"

He took the file and quickly read through it. Learning to speed-read was part of his "old" job. He was done only a minute later. He looked appalled.

"Okay… so he's a cow-boy with a badge. The worst possible kind. Have we got test subjects?"

"Erm, yeah, maybe two or three. You're already thinking of a game? John has seriously rubbed off on you…"

"Osmosis. I spent far too much time with the guy. I think it should be soon, before he actually puts someone in danger. More than he already has, I mean. He actually just left the zoo crime scene?"

"Yep, just like that. And he arrived there late, too. I'll need at least two days to gather the subjects. If we work hard, like day and night, all the traps can be ready in three."

I suddenly got the answer to my question. There was no master or apprentice. We were all the new Jigsaw.

####################

A couple of days later, we were both in the garage office again. Mark was getting dressed and I was lying naked on the cot. All that the scene was missing was a cigarette.

"I've been thinking about Marcos' game.", he said. "I'm thinking the test subjects would have better chances if we got him some help _within_ the game. Someone to make sure he learns."

I smiled. We had already used that trick in the house game as well as Rigg's.

"You're thinking of someone in particular?"

"His partner seems smart…"

_**You know that part in Saw VI where Jill delivers a parcel to someone's door? I'm ignoring it… just so we're clear.**_

_**I apologize if some of the dialogue seems overly romantic (translation: if it got too soppy). Sometimes my muse decides to ignore my principles and has her wicked way with my characters.**_

_**Gosh, do you have ANY IDEA how tough it is to write a porn scene at the first person? It's a freaking nightmare! I'm never doing this again… until next time. But seriously: it's even harder than designing traps! You know how some actors say sex scenes are often difficult to shoot because they're naked and with someone they're not necessarily close to and getting intimate, etc…? That's how it felt!**_

_**Still… wouldn't mind getting intimate with Hoffman… I'm kinda getting jealous of my own character here… Is that sick?**_

_**Let me know what you think of this chapter. Next one will be the last. **_

_**Don't cry!**_


	17. Chapter 17 The End Of The Game

"_**This is the end, beautiful friend  
This is the end  
My only friend, the end  
Of our elaborate plans, the end  
Of everything that stands, the end  
No safety or surprise, the end**_

_**[…] The end of laughter and soft lies  
The end of nights we tried to die  
This is the end.**__**"**_

_**The Doors, This Is The End**_

_**T'is indeed the end, my lovely readers, of "Skin Deep". I hope you've enjoyed it.**_

_**I'm going to enjoy my holiday and won't be publishing anything new for a while. My next story won't be a SAW one, I'm moving to fresh pastures.**_

_**As for this chapter, well… things get rough. You might want to have "Hello Zepp" playing in the background… Adds intensity…**_

_**Warning: character death. Yu-huh… Oh, come on! This is a frikkin' SAW story, they can't all make it!**_

**Chapter Seventeen – The End Of The Game**

Marcos and Engstrom were now facing the man who had set their game.

Sitting in a leather clad office chair, Mark Hoffman was staring at them, his eyes cold like a glacier, but with a hint of a smirk on his lips. Behind him was a long console table on which sat a series of monitors. Marcos recognized some of the scenes on them: the test rooms, complete with dead bodies, and some parts of corridors. He could see Sheila's body on one of them…

"Hello, Julian."

Marcos was breathing heavily. He was finally face to face with the bastard he had come all this way and more to arrest. Mark Hoffman, the Jigsaw Killer. It was almost too good to be true!

He entered to room, followed by Engstrom, both guns still pointed at Hoffman, who just looked at them without moving. Marcos told his partner:

"Search him."

"Excuse me?"

"Search him! See if he's armed!"

"What if he is? I'm not risking a hostage situation!"

"If that happens, I'll shoot him!"

"Before or after he shoots me?"

Marcos just grunted in response and gestured for Engstrom to comply. Engstrom reluctantly approached her former superior. His expression remained the same. Keeping her gun in her right hand, she quickly patted him down with her left: first the insides of his jacket, then his waist, then the legs. Hoffman did not move an inch the whole time. Once she was done, she went back to Marcos' side.

"He's clear.", she said.

"That wasn't much of a search!" Marcos exclaimed.

"Then you do it!"

"You barely touched him!"

"What do you want me to do exactly? Give him a lap dance?"

"You could at least 'cuff him!"

"With what? Did you wake up with your law enforcement kit, 'cos I sure didn't!"

Marcos decided to drop it for now. Though the idea of Engstrom doing a lap dance was certainly an interesting one… that he would have to keep in mind for later.

He turned to Hoffman: "I got you… I really got you!"

"Yes, Julian, you got me. Are you pleased with yourself?"

"Too right I am!" He heard Engstrom groan at his reaction, but ignored it. "How does it feel, huh, Hoffman? I beat you little game! You got caught by the very person you tried to kill!"

"The point was not to kill you, Julian. I thought you would have learned that."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot! I'm supposed to learn a lesson, right? Here's your lesson: never judge a book by its cover! It's not because I didn't make my way up the ranks the usual way that I don't deserve to be here!"

"I never said you didn't. I just wanted to find out if deserved to remain there."

"It's not for you to decide, though, is it? You're not God!"

"I never pretended to be, and I find you quite presumptuous to believe only God can decide your fate. Only you make your own path. Or is it just so you can blame someone else when you don't get your way?"

"That's not true!"

"Really? So far, you've been blaming me, your superiors, even poor Sophia here for what has happened today, but not once have I heard you even say sorry for those deaths, or even your lies."

"I have nothing to be sorry for!"

"We all have something to be sorry for."

"I don't!"

"Yes, you do. You just don't want to admit it. Which is a shame, really. If you had, Sheila, Maureen and Lloyd would still be alive. Come to think of it, I did not even see you express any sorrow for their passing…"

"We all have to die someday. It's tragic that it had to be today for them, but hey, nothing I could do."

"I agree on one point: we indeed all will die someday. But there was something you could have done. If you had just accepted…"

"Oh, don't tell me: this is when your big 'cherish your life' or 'life is precious' speech comes in, right? Don't bother, buddy, I've had enough of your life lessons for one day!"

"I don't believe you have. If that was the case, we would not be having this conversation."

"Okay, then let's stop the talking! You're going to stand up, show me the way out of this place, and come with me to the station!"

"'Me'? I see two of you…"

"Marcos glanced sideways at Engstrom, who was giving him a death glare."

"Doesn't matter. My game, not hers…"

"Thanks a lot…", said Engstrom.

"Oh shut up! We talked about this!"

"You talked, I tried to breathe!"

"Whatever! Do as I say, Hoffman!"

"Or what?" said Hoffman. "You'll shoot me?"

"S'not like anyone will miss you!"

"That's not very nice, nor very mature."

"I don't give a shit! Wait till I walk in there with you as my prisoner! MY prisoner!"

"But Julian: nobody knows you're in town, you didn't tell anyone. So they know even less you're in this building. That's the problem when you cheat your way into a criminal case."

"Well, the effect will only be greater, won't it? 'Whoa, Marcos, we didn't even know you were gone, and now you're bringing us Jigsaw'? Ha! That should go down in history!"

"So that's all you care about? To get famous? Even though three people died today because of you?"

"No! Not my fault! You put them there!"

"I brought them here because of you. You're the cause of the game, I'm just the organizer."

"It's not like the world is short of a hacker anyway!"

"Those were people, Julian, not words or objects."

"Whatever. You're not pinning this on me. My conscience is clear."

"So now you are just going to forget about them? And just bask in the glory of catching the Jigsaw Killer?"

"Yeah, maybe I will! What's wrong with that?"

"That is so not the right answer…"

Marcos blinked a couple of times before realizing those words had been spoken by Engstrom…

His eyes widened as he turned to look at her.

She had dropped her gun and was looking at him intensely.

Everything then seemed to happen in slow motion. A syringe had appeared in Engstrom's hands, and a second later it was in Marcos' neck. Taken by surprise, he could only gasp as he felt the cold liquid seeping into his jugular…

He felt his legs go numb and fell to the floor.

Engstrom handed the syringe to Hoffman, who started to wipe her prints off it with a cloth. She then started to roll up her sleeves…

… _revealing five perfectly parallel scars on her left forearm…_

She started to slip on some rubber gloves. Marcos stared in disbelief. He suddenly knew what, or rather who, had caused those scars. It dawned on him he had never seen her arms bare. And who he had been working with all this time…

"You fucking bitch!", he roared. He aimed at her and pulled the trigger.

The gun went _click._

"Looking for these?", Engstrom said, waving his charger in front of him. She looked at Hoffman. "Fucking wannabes… they never check if their gun's loaded." Looking back at Marcos: "Next time you try to maim a girl, don't rub yourself against her afterwards, even if it's to strangle her… oh silly me, there ain't gonna be a next time, is there?"

His jaw dropped… it was a nightmare… it had to be a nightmare…

"How… how could you…"

"I don't think you're the one to point fingers, Marcos. Your fucking lies put you here, not me…"

"But I… I passed…"

"You passed nothing! They're all dead! And all because of you. You wanted to be a hero so bad you were ready to put people in danger, and that's exactly what happened. And still you didn't learn the lesson. You failed your test, Marcos. Deal with it."

"You were supposed to help me…"

"I am the Tool. The Tool to help you on your tests, and I did that. I tried to keep you focused and make you see why you were here. But you ignored me. You refuse to learn your lesson. I could not pass the tests for you. So I became the Tool to your destruction. It's the rules, Julian: you change or you die. You'd have known that if you'd bothered to read the fucking files…"

Marcos had lost all feelings in his legs, and could feel the numbness spreading to his abdomen…

"It wasn't supposed… to end like this…"

"No, Julian, it wasn't… A real hero would have saved the day."

His lungs were beginning to struggle. "What… did you just…"

"Inject you with? Just a sedative… lined with cyanide. The sedative make the poison slower but less painful… You have maybe one minute left to live. "

Marcos stared at her. He couldn't die! He was the good guy! But he felt the paralysis spread to his arms and back, and his breathing was becoming ragged. All he could do was just lie there.

Hoffman and Engstrom gathered the pictures into a file. They made their move to leave, but at the last second, Engstrom motioned Hoffman to wait. She moved towards Marcos. She kneeled beside him and said: "You know, usually I'm not one for gratuitous torture, but…"

While he was still wondering what she was getting at, she got her gun out and shot him a bullet in each kneecap point blank. Marcos screamed in pain as the bones exploded.

"… you really asked for it.", she finished.

He started sobbing. "Fucking whore! They're gonna find me, and then…"

"Did you forget already, Julian? Nobody's coming."

Marcos stared in horror and agony. Hoffman and Engstrom made their way to the door. He opened and went through it. Engstrom stood there for a second, looking intensely at Marcos.

"Game over."

She switched off the lights, left the room and closed the door. Marcos heard a loud noise indicating the door had just been locked. He was now staring at the darkness of his tomb.

With his last breath, he found the strength to scream.

THE END

**Epilogue – From the diaries of Detective S.J. Engstrom**

_Ever since fourth grade, I've hated my name. Sophia-Jane Engstrom. Sounds like a Viking living in a trailer. Like Norwegian white trash. Angelina understood this, and that's why she started calling me Jane, which quickly became Janey. It wasn't great, but it was a step up. Ever since, to avoid strange looks and mockeries, I separated my names. At work, I was always Sophia or even S.J., but with my friends I was always Jane._

_When Angie died, I felt like I had lost not only my best friend, but also part of my identity. As Mark became more and more distant, that feeling grew stronger. Then I was raped, and the guy got away with it. It felt like my life and free will had been ripped away from my body. I became a walking corpse. I quit my job at the BAU because I couldn't be bothered anymore to catch bad guys who would walk away free 90% of the time on an insanity plea. I had no will power left for anything, not even to kill myself. I did not want to end my life, just not wanted to live it…_

_Mark got me a job in his unit. I would help solve cases on a smaller scale than what I was used to. That suited me fine. Then the Jigsaw case arrived. From the start I could see that he was just doing what we all wanted: giving criminals a taste of their own medicine. As a result, I was deliberately slacking the investigation. Especially when that bastard Seth Baxter was killed. Of course, that' wasn't Jigsaw work, but I did not know that at the time. From then on, I just did not make any more efforts. I got warned by my superiors, but it was no use. So I asked for a transfer and ended up in Vice, locking up pimps instead of murderers. All I had to do was show up, take statements and then go home. Life was a slow-moving broken record, and that was okay…_

_Then I got tested. And life was worth living again. This time I couldn't get enough of it. Amanda had called it rebirth. I didn't feel it that way. I just felt clearer, taller, smarter, wiser… Me, just new and improved. This time I felt useful. This time I had my place in the order of the universe._

_I have no regrets. I know I face danger and risks every day. That what we do isn't exactly right. But I do believe that sometimes you have to work in darkness to change things for the better._

_I have no illusions either. One day it will have to stop. At some point we will all be discovered or killed. But John had thought about that too. He may be dead, but he's not done. There are so many more games to be played until the Endgame Solution…_

_I am at peace. I could die tomorrow. Not that I want to, I really don't, but now I can go meet my maker with a light heart._

_My life has been worth living._

_THE END…?_

_**And so, my pretties, "Skin Deep" is over. With a twist at the end, in true SAW tradition. I hope I haven't shocked you too much. Just enough. Thank you all for reading…**_

… _**but… it needn't end here…**_

_**On my profile, you shall find a poll: "Should 'Skin Deep' have a sequel?" I have some ideas for a sequel called "The Endgame Solution", but if you guys think a sequel is not necessary, I'll use them on other stories. **_

_**My next story will not be a Saw one, it will be a Spuffy called "Something Wicked Cool This Way Comes". But the one after that… Who knows?**_

_**Send in the love, and take care…**_


End file.
